TITLE: As Long As He Lives

RATING: K+

SUMMARY: Season 11 Episode 17 "Red Meat" tag: Sam finally wrangles out of Dean what he really did after Sam had 'died'.

WORDS: 1237

NOTES: There are two things I will address: One – I know that there are way too many of these stories floating around, but, really, can you blame me for wanting to write one myself? It's just too delicious to leave alone. Second – Hello! It's been a long while since I posted anything. Didn't mean to be away for so long, but life. Anyway, enjoy the story!

A huge thank you to Her Majesty's Hunter. You guys would be reading a bunch of trash if it weren't for her.

"You what?"

Sam stared at his brother, aghast. The things Dean was saying couldn't possibly be true and yet they had the ring of truth that was impossible to ignore. Which made everything terrifying.

"You heard me, Sammy," Dean said, nonchalant, eyeing his brother uneasily. Sam looked like he was really close to passing out.

Sam stared at him speechlessly for a long second... and then just kept staring. He debated begging Dean to tell him it was a humorless joke, a misconception, a hallucination and then discarded that idea completely; Dean would never play a joke as cruel as this one on his brother and it was pretty clear by the look on his brother's face that it was no delusion.

After a whole minute of rising tension, Sam felt something break inside himself and began berating his brother. He yelled and raged and screamed until his voice went hoarse. He felt the tears flowing down his cheeks, tears of pain, of belated terror and did nothing to stop them. He walked back to Dean who wasn't looking at Sam at all, eyes firmly planted on the ground, and forced him to face Sam, taking dark, vicious pleasure in the way Dean's eyes flickered with panic and pain at seeing his little brother cry: Dean never had been able to bear seeing Sam upset. And suddenly, it became too much. Dean had tried to commit freaking suicide because he couldn't live without Sam, wasn't even willing to try. Worst of all, he had tried to trade himself for Sam again.

Sam shut down and cried silently, tears still flowing freely, vision blurry and all senses dulled, useless. He vaguely felt himself being pulled gently and leaned against a familiar shape, wrapped in something that warmed him up and slightly relaxed his trembling body instinctually. A comfortable buzz filled his ears as Sam let himself grieve for the brother he had barely managed to not lose.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Sam surfaced and realized that Dean had been holding him, keeping him from falling apart completely and that the pleasant buzz had been his brother whispering 'You know I can't say I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm not. Please don't cry. I didn't know what else to do, Sam. It's okay, though. We're here, it's okay.' Dean trembled lightly even as he held Sam together.

Sam wrapped his till then lax arms around Dean, returning the embrace, letting his strength speak the volumes of terror and anger he felt all while letting Dean know that Sam was there, too, that he hadn't died either and that he didn't plan to any time soon. The two brother's rested their foreheads on each other's shoulders and just took the other in.

"Dean," Sam began softly. "What you did was wrong. You have to know that. You don't- you're important, too." His arms tightened around the older man in case he tried running away like he usually did to avoid talking about 'girly things'. Dean remained still and loose. Sam sighed then continued. "You still don't get it... then try this: put yourself in my shoes and me in yours. You got shot. You were smothered to near death. I came back to your seemingly-dead body. I tried to kill myself so that I could bargain with a reaper who's already told us that we don't get second chances and know that I will most probably not return, leaving you alone and with the knowledge that I died to bring you back-"

"Sam!" said Dean, voice sharp and wrecked, body tenser than a guitar string, stiffer than stone, barely even breathing.

Sam shook his head, determined to continue and do whatever it took to hammer this lesson into Dean, even if it meant Dean had to face some hard truths. It was about time anyway. "Now, put that with all we went through the last time one of us sacrificed himself for the other. Or better yet, all the other times. Factor in this crazy suicide succeeding with the rest of our history and the pain and suffering and misery we went through, Dean. Do you see now? Do you understand how I would have felt if you had succeeded? What would you have done in my place, huh?"

Dean began drawing away, the last few days already painful, but the answer to Sam's last questions being the hardest thing he'd realized. He knew what Sam would do next and he did not want to be around for that.

Sam kept his grip on Dean firm, unrelenting. He was almost done. "That's what I would have done, too, Dean. I... wouldn't've continued living... after. It wouldn't have been possible to," Sam whispered. "So, do you see now?"

Dean buried his face in Sam's neck and nodded, and though Sam noticed the wetness and the returned trembling, he didn't say anything. Just held Dean together, until they were both done. Then, since Dean was dead on his feet and Sam seriously doubted his capability of maneuvering his way to his room on his own, he dropped Dean off to his room. Having stripped Dean down to the bare minimum and covered him, Sam hesitated near the end of the bed. It was times like these when he missed double-bedded motel rooms. On a logical, practical level, he knew Dean was fine, knew that he wouldn't do anything now (not having a reason anymore, plus Dean would never do that to his little brother while the latter was still alive, Sam was sure of that), but he couldn't help it.

Then Dean, who Sam had presumed to be asleep, lifted his arm – and therefore the blankets – silently beckoning Sam to his bed. Figuring just this once couldn't hurt, Sam moved into the proffered space, tentative. Suddenly Dean draped his arm over Sam's ribs, pulling them both comfortably close. Sam smiled, whispered a goodnight and sunk into sleep. A few minutes later, mind foggy with exhaustion, he heard Dean whisper "Thank you."

END

Author's note: This took me an insane amount of time to write, considering I already had a draft written down. But every time I thought 'hey, let's get started on that story that I thought of ages ago!' something came up. I am not even kidding. And I don't even like how it turned out. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review!