The smallest things in the world meant nothing to him but the small trust, the touch of their hearts together, were something that never… should have never… been broken. Now though, looking down at the brown, nealry black, trunk of a tree with the carvings so old that even he couldn't figure out when they were put there.
This had been the place, the last time he actually smiled softly with enjoyment, of finding the truth. This had been the explanation, the telling of one sinful moment that only he could seem to hold so deep in his heart. His heart was so tired and it wasn't as if he was wanting freedom of it but comfort that it was not a sinful thing.
His eyes moved up the bark then turning his arm he looked at the six foot by five inches of a man, not just a man but his baby brother, looking so forien lorn.
"IT's over, right dean… We're… here still, right?"
Tap…
Tap…
Tap. Tap… BANG!
Dean shot up into the air looking around the room, dizzy from the night before, and then he frowned noticing that Sam was not in his bed, or curled to Dean's side like he did when absolutely passed out drunk, or the shower… or…
The front door was open, the salt line blown across the floor, before Dean shot to his feet, stumbling and nearly falling onto his brother's bed, and he was out the door his brother's name on his lips. There though a few feet away looking up at the storm where the wind blew as if a raging woman in hunt of her missing child looked down at them.
"Looks like we'll be stuck here a few more days, Dean." Sam sounded exhausted. "Woke up to the call of the hurricane siren."
Dean blinked before he finally heard the wail and he moved grabbing his brother's arm dragging him back inside to grab their belongings before shoving it in the car, "Sammy, why the hell didn 't you wake me up?"
"Because… You looked like you were sleeping nicely." Dean suggested that Sam was still hung over for that lame comment.
"Look at your self!" Sam Winchester snapped pointing at Dean's split lip, dull eyes, and his hair matted in blood. "You look like shit! You need to go to the hospital!"
"I'm fine, baby bro." Dean smiled a little unsteady swaying on his feet, "Just need to shower and take a nap."
"And what if you fall unconcious, Dean! What if you suddenly drop dead… stop acting so macho and go to the hospital with me!" Sam moved over to his brother gripping the tense forearm, the sweat and blood still sleek on the muscled skin before his eyes dug deep into Dean's who kept shaking or closing his eyes.
HE couldn't see, coulnd't figure out what was happening… Dean had always been stubborn but now he was being stupid and supidity would cost them their lives.
"Please, brother… stop…" Dean's use of 'brother' did not go past Sam's ears without the small whine. Dean was not good, dean never was good when he was so low to whine, beg, for anything to happen.
Now though, Dean slide closer to Sam's body, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist making Dean freeze up and he watched, more felt, his brother cry into his chest. He knew his brother never cried, Dean was strong and he never broke down… but now, now he was crying and a wreck, bloody, hurt, and practically broken.
IT didn't surprise Sam that Deans' mental wall had also taken damage in that last hunt with that shapeshifter. IT didn't surpise Sam that his brother clung to him when Dean had shot 'him', the shapeshifter in Sam's own form, and it must have been hell for the older boy.
"OH HELL NO!" Sam dropped to the ground nearly having the butcher knife in his skull, "Why the hell do they keep doing this to me!" HE turned over onto his stomach before he screamed his brother's name stating he was indeed in deep shit.
A cough to his side, he looked to see the person they were looking for in the first place in this house built in the 1920's, and he watched the kids eyes close the cuts littering the skin showing. The feeling of hands gripped his shirt pulling him up int oa sitting position before he yelped in pain his chest kicked so he smashed back down onto the floor.
Sam stared up at the stars…
"SAMMY!" Dean's voice, a shot gun, and a yell before something vanished from the salt rocks shot at it. "Sammy, talk to me, bro." the worry, laced with the fear, was lined into every word as if carefully stitched.
"Kid, under table." Sam finally felt his mouth move after the words were said minutes before. He turned his head everything spinning and bluring before Dean held the kid to his side dropping back down.
"Come on, Sammy, get up… Getting us out of here, baby bro."
How Ironic was it that the man he loved he loved for so many different reasons. He loved Dean for his smile, the laugh, the constant and wonderful 'smile'. That soft sigh when things did go right and nothing went wrong to the point he'd struggle with himself later. How ironic was it that he loved this man, older brother, because he stayed by his side day in day out, goofing off, holding him when he was so far down in depression.
Sam Winchester looked over at Dean before he leaned into his brother's chest holding him, "I'm sorry…" he whispered, "I… I have to go back, Dean." He smiled again before he closed his eyes leaning his head down onto Dean's chest the small shaking showing his brother was staffing off the tears.
"Don't… don't do this again, Sammy…" IT had broken his brother when he had left, Sam knew, but this time it was for different reasons then because he wanted away from the 'family' business as Dean always put it.
This time Sam had to make sure that if Sam loved Dean his older brother was not going to regret it because he'd find Sam again, telling him that their love was never going to be wrong because they loved being near each other. Loved holding each other up into the air.
Sam moved his head up kissing Dean's lips before Dean looked utterly hurt. Sam left, his bags packed, to finding his own hunt.