Title: Good
Summary: Season 11. Dean POV. Tag to "Safe House" after the soul eater leaves Dean's body.
"You good, Dean. You good."
Soul eater…gone. Hard to breath. Sam? Arms around me, pulling me back into safety. Sanity. Sam? Squeeze my eyes hard. Head hurts. Foggy. Feel…stunned? Can't sit up…can't…
"I've got you, Dean."
Sam. Hand on my head. Relief. Breathe in and out…so hard to do… Sam…
Trying to get up…can't move. Arms still holding me. Stronger now. Forcing me to stay.
Giving up now…on standing. Settled here. Until I get better. Recover. Damn soul eater. Damn monsters…
"Easy, Dean. It's gone, okay? Just sit for a minute. I've got you."
Sam. Playing my role. Protector. Pulling me back from another hell. Too many hells to count. Too many close calls. Our life. Our life sucks. The saddest, most depressing life anyone could imagine. And worse. But…Sam. Sam is here. It's the only thing that makes this crap life worth it.
Leaning heavy on him. Pulled to his chest. I need to move. But I can't. I need to be strong. But I can't. Not for a few minutes. For a few minutes, Sam needs to look after me. Protect until I can. I'll stay for a minute. In my brother's arms. It's okay. It'll be okay. I know it will. Sam's here.
"Give it a minute, Dean. Get your breath. Let your head clear."
Sam knew. Breathing, foggy...rest. Just for a minute. Felt my eyes close. I let them close. Felt different then. Relaxing. To be able to close my eyes and know at that moment that I was safe. Hard breathing slowed. The fog cleared. Head went from pain to ache.
I didn't move. Not yet. I did though…I did reach a hand up to grab Sam's arm, the one that was still tight across my chest.
"Sammy?" My voice. Quiet and scratchy.
"Here, Dean."
Yeah, I know. Just needed to hear the words this time. It was good. We were good. Me and Sam. So good. Better than we'd ever been. So much in the past. Pain, hurt, betrayal. Didn't matter now. Only now mattered. Sam was here. We were brothers and friends and family and everything that mattered. And it made this part of our lives, the best part.
I felt stronger now. Retuning to me. I moved my legs a bit.
"Sam, I'm okay now."
Moving to sit up. Sam released his hold and helped me sit on my own. One hand in contact until I was stable.
"Help me stand."
Sam did. I did. Made it upright. Wobbled for a few seconds. Vertical. Sam moved his hands away.
"You good?"
"Yeah," I said. "Good."
Looked around at the mess we'd left. Soul eater verses Little brother. It had left a few marks in the house. We'd do a little house cleaning before leaving. Sam pointed to the nearby dining room table.
"Go sit, Dean. I've got this."
"I'm good, Sammy. Swear it. Can't leave this mess. Quick clean up and then we're out."
Sam smiled. A good smile. I reached over and up, snuck a hand around the nape of his neck and squeezed. Didn't have to say anything. Never did with Sam. Not really. He knew me. What I couldn't say with words, I could say in other ways.
Thanks, Sammy.
Something so simple. So easy to say. But…well, Winchesters, right?
Didn't matter. Not now. Not anymore. We were good.
Sam reacted to the squeeze with a brief hand on my shoulder. The heavy, welcomed feeling of comfort and family. Sam's unspoken response to my unspoken thank you.
Huh. Yeah. We were good. Damn right we were. Best we'd ever been.
The End