Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone affiliated with the show Supernatural.
Author's Note: This may have some spoilers from earlier in the show.
…
Dean has been watching Sam these days, and it's like watching every light-bulb in a house burn out one by one. It's been happening their whole lives, and he wishes his little brother weren't faking his innocence as he interviews the strangers that they sometimes pull information from. But that's what real life does, and as a hunter, you can't un-see the things you've been through.
Sam doesn't have the ability to let things roll off of him like he does. He makes a big hooded sweater out of all of it and wears it around day in and day out; each stretch of material made out of what some would call nightmares, but the Winchesters call reality…
"Yeah, monsters exist, Sammy."
"A monster is what killed Mom."
"Dad hunts those monsters."
"I'm going on this next hunt with Dad, Sammy. Don't wait up tonight."
"Stop being a little wuss, Sam. You have to stitch me. I can't reach my own back, dude."
"Take these pliers Sam, sterilize them, come back and dig this freakin' bullet out of your brother, and that's an order."
"We can really use you on the hunt, Sam. You're a little young still, but you're smart. It's time you start your training."
" K Sammy, no hospitals, I'm sorry, I know you don't want me to touch it, but I gotta… you gotta let me put that shoulder back into its socket. Sit still, okay? I'm'a take care of you. Okay, take a deep breath… let it out. Okay good, now on the count of three. One… snap!"
"If you walk out that door, don't you dare come back."
"Dude... I'm sorry about Jessica."
There have been times Dean didn't even know there was anything left to hurt Sam with, but life has a way of getting creative while it's aiming for that devastation factor. It's just another light-bulb in the big house of a man that is his brother, burning out. Therefore, Dean has been able to see more and more of the darker side of his Sam these days, see what he's been turning into.
It would be so easy to be clones of John.
Or maybe it would be so much easier if one of them were a girl… that way it wouldn't feel like they would be a double disappointment to Daddy Dearest on the men good ol' John Winchester trained his sons to be.
But no.
They are two boys that have recently grown into men, but they also happen to be turning into the things they hunt. Or at least one of them is. If a hunter had a fear, that would be it.
If their dad could see them now, he would call them both monsters. One allowing the other to roam free, knowing so said other is a supernatural monster show on stilt-high legs. He would be nice enough to give them a running head start, but angry enough to hunt them down and possibly kill them both; or at least make them wish they were dead.
The father they knew has never been a stable man, not since Mary was killed. Maybe that's how they became so messed up themselves. Being brought into a life of unnatural living, never ending hunting, driven by angst and pain from a father's need for revenge might have something to do with the fact that Dean keeps allowing Sam to live.
…
And tonight everything they know about each other, down from the stupid analytical things they know about each other, up to the big things has finally come to a head; there comes a point where an awareness line gets crossed that you can't turn back from.
Something's happened. Now Dean knows.
The devastation factor has upped the ante and no matter how much the men know about one another, none of it registers, nor does it seem to matter, because Dean's pretty sure that the man standing here in the motel room with him, while it's pouring down rain outside, with dried blood still caked on his neck and chin, isn't someone that he can possibly recognize.
How did they end up here?
Well this night didn't start outwith what anyone would call a spontaneous combustion. Dean guesses if he looked back through from the time he got back from hell until now, he saw the warning signs. He knew something was wrong, something big, but this just doesn't compute.
Sam's shaking in his boots and refusing to make eye contact, but he guesses he can't really blame him. Dean did consider killing Sam tonight.
Secret is out... Sam's a bloodsucker.
One of the only things that separate Sam from being an actual vampire is the fact that his little brother is cracked out on not just any blood… but demon blood. And Dean really doesn't want to ask himself which of those would be worse.
When Dean saw Sam hovered over a demon and feeding on her neck, Dean's first thought was that Sam had gotten possessed during the hunt somehow, but he knew that the tattoo that hovers over his brother's heart would make that an impossibility. So just as quickly as that thought left him, another thought entered him… that thought being that Sam is acting on his very own natural instincts. His brother was fed demon blood as a baby and now he's back at it; drinking demon blood as if his life depends on it. Naturally.
Seeing blood dripping from Sam's mouth, down his chin and to his neck, Dean recalled hearing his dad's last order that he gave him into his ear when he was lying in a hospital bed…
"I know this is hard Dean, and I wouldn't tell you this unless I absolutely had too, an' you know it. I love Sammy… but Dean… God forbid you ever have to… but if it ever comes down to it… if the demon blood that runs through his veins takes 'em over… then you gotta son… you just gotta. You'll have to kill'em."
However, Dean's focus moved from the blood running down his brother's face tonight and he caught a glimpse of his brother's fearful eyes. Dean knew better than to have sympathy for any monster, but this isn't just a monster. This was Sammy… his Sammy. Monsters don't have that look of unnerving fear in their eyes… not even when they're faking. And that's when Dean realized that Sam wasn't the monster. Sam was more afraid of Dean than Dean was of him.
That moment caused something to happen to Dean tonight. With a sickening and devastating clarity Dean realized that when John said, "...if it ever comes down to it... if the demon blood that runs through his veins takes him over..." that he was referring to a line that might be crossed, a signal would go off, there might be a breaking point, that would tell him when it had indeed gotten to that point. And tonight, when Dean and Sam were on a hunt, nothing special, but were in the moment, things went up in smoke. Just like that. The moment his dad warned him about happened. No doubt the line had been crossed, the signal went off, and in came the breaking point.
For the first time, he wasn't going to follow his father's orders.
Never in a million years did Sam ever think that his big brother had an understanding bone in his body when it came to things of the dark side. Since he has always been the freak, the one with demon blood already inside of him, Dean has always made sure to warn him about how bad it can get and how important it is to never exercise those psychic abilities of his, because it would just put him one step closer to turning into straight up evil.
Well...
When Sam showed his moment of weakness tonight and gave into his temptation; feeding off of the demon, he expected Dean to end him right then and there; put him out of his misery; put him down, like a sick animal, the rest of the monsters that they hunt.
But no.
After Sam accidentally had his little feast in front of Dean, and finally came too, and realized what he had done, Sam turned his blood-covered face around to face Dean. What he saw in his older brother's eyes made the warm intoxicating blood that he had just ingested turn cold.
The usually emotionless Dean had his heart in his eyes, clearly broken in utter disappointment. But the next look on Dean's face was unexpected and it was startling. Sam almost wished that Dean had been angry with him instead of staring at him with that the awful look of pity aimed right at him.
Sam was so out of it from the mixture of demon blood and fear of what Dean was going to have to do to him that he didn't remember getting into the Impala. He didn't remember the car ride. All he knew was reality crashing down around him as they stood facing each other in this same motel room; chests heaving, eyes darting to keep from the vulnerable feeling that came with much needed eye-contact.
All of their lives he has always been able to read Dean, he knew him well enough to tell you his next move. However, when Dean's voice finally broke the thick silence, and it came out soft and tired, instead of angry and brutal, he was caught off guard, and being caught off guard is something that's never supposed to happen to a hunter. Being caught off guard makes you vulnerable, leaves you wide open to get hurt. And hurt it did.
Sam wondered for an earth shattering moment if Dean had only brought him back to the comfort of their crappy motel room to do it in silence. He knew that Dean should have been making a move toward his duffel bag to grab a silencer to put on his gun so that nobody would hear him kill him. But Dean made no move toward his bag. He did however, make a move toward him, and he knew that even though Dean was more than capable, he wasn't cold-blooded enough to kill him with his bare hands.
For a fleeting moment, Sam saw something in Dean's eyes that told him that his move toward him wasn't to kill him.
Each touch that came next at lightning speed, were rough blows and each calculated embrace was as if they were fighting to show each other that they are in fact still, hunters, human.
Pretty soon they had fought their way into the wall and crashed to the floor. That is when everything turned into something somewhat sweeter. Little by little they toned the roughness down to a bare minimum until they reached an exhausted truce.
Come to find out…
Dean understands addiction.
Dean understands what it means to need something.
There is only one thing that Dean wants as much as Sam wants demon blood… and that's his family. And not just his family, but his whole family, he, Dad, Sam, and Mom, and the safety-net that creates.
At the moment, the guilt has Sam feeling like there is only one thing that he would want that would taste even sweeter than the blood and the strength of a hundred demons, and that's to have his brother in his presence with the inevitable gun pointed at him like he was so sure would be when Dean found out his secret. However, now Dean's eyes are on him, giving all of his attention to him, making him feel like his big brother usually makes people feel… like you're the most important person in the universe to him.
With just a look or a grin Dean Winchester can make you feel like you're the only person that matters, and even be in these kinds of situations like this which is just a ridiculous thought but Dean's looking at him with not just the anger, but the compassion, not just the betrayal, but with the disappointment and loyalty wrapped into one. Dean's not killing him and he's, thank God, not going anywhere. Those were the only two things Sam thought would possibly happen in this scenario.
Right now Sam's head falls back against the wall with a thud, as he opens his mouth for a deeper breath than he's allowed himself all night. But somewhere in the silence of truths one shameful memory steals the breath out of his lungs before he even gets to enjoy it.
And now Dean knows; now he's sees.
He now has the knowledge of what Sam looks like when he's being the thing that the yellow eyed monster had created him to be; a savage .
Oh the whimpers he made no doubt, as he always does, as he drinks for the high, wishes for the delirium to never stop, to the disconnected look in his eyes as he loses himself to the feeling somewhere inside because of the jumpy nerves that are causing his body to surge in ways that aren't humanly possible. Dean saw it all.
The first time he took a hit, he knew how wrong it was, and he suddenly wanted to stop it before it was too late. However, when that first sip had made it down his throat, he came undone. It caused him to fall over the edge with a need for more.
Sam finally makes a conscious effort to be alert for the sight of Dean unraveling next to him. He definitely doesn't want to see this. He fights through his high from the hit he took just an hour before, and tries to concentrate through the oblivion to hold on tighter to his big brother's words, digging fingerprint bruises into his own thighs harshly, purposely to keep himself from being carried away by the rush of the power and all-time high happiness, to give Dean his attention. I'm still here, it's still me. I'm sorry.
Dean goes to stand and arches his back with a hiss, and he nearly loses his footing and would have if it weren't for Sam throwing his arms around Dean's waist to catch his weight. It was just a tiny knee-jerk reaction; Dean-hurt, help-Dean.
A small moment of warmth spreads across Sam's insides as he realizes that Dean is trusting Sam to hold his weight for the first time since he found out he's a blood sucker. If they weren't such men about everything, they would probably consider this moment beautiful, but the moment doesn't last long enough to even consider it, because startlingly Sam realizes that with all of the strength of the demon blood running through his veins, Dean's not showing signs of age pain. Sam hurt Dean when they were being brothers and throwing their weight around. They hold eye contact long enough for Sam's face to fall, his eyes to cloud over with shame, and it breaks the moment.
"Let go," Dean orders out in a grumble from the back of his throat tiredly, with a surprising hint of pain behind his order.
Rejection slaps Sam right across his face and his heart clenches at the coldness of Dean's tone. But he does as he is ordered and actually does drop him, making all of Dean's dead weight fall back roughly on the bed.
The absence of Dean's trust suddenly becomes painful, because letting him go was all it took to make reality start crashing in.
Sam can't see the expression on Dean's face but he doesn't have to, to know that Dean's reality crashed back into place before his even did. Little brother who's not so little has the strength of a demon now that he drinks them. Sam can actually hurt him.
With Dean's legs at an odd angle to keep his back from hurting, he lies back uncomfortably on top of the hard mattress… and he actually laughs.
As if Dean can practically hear Sam's face crack into a quizzical frown, he clarifies… "The day my baby brother can nearly snap my spine without hardly trying? That, Sammy, that is the day that I know that we are so screwed," he says with mock amusement and just a hint of sadness in his tone.
Sam still being angry for making him let him go, he lets out an angry huff. "Oh come on Dean, don't be so dramatic. It's not like we really fought each other. I had an unfair advantage. You're ego is still in-tacked."
Dean stills for a second and then slowly raises his head to peer at Sam from the view of between his own legs… and again with the condescending laughter.
However, now that Sam can see Dean's eyes, he knows that Dean's laughter isn't really laughter at all. He's forcing his self to laugh to keep from letting the tears in his eyes fall.
Sam doesn't move. He swallows hard. He feels his own eyes fill with tears, and he forces himself not to shed them. The one thing he can see in Dean's eyes… leeriness. And screw it, one tear falls down his nose, and he quickly swipes it away. It usually takes him longer to crash but with all the inner turmoil in being outed and hurting his brother... screw it... he doesn't want to be able to hurt his big brother. He plunks down in one of the sad excuses for an armchair.
Dean watches the whole thing, then pain or no pain, forces himself to the edge of the bed to sit in front of him and rubs his face tiredly, trying to school himself of any emotions that Sam can see on him. But it doesn't work; he knows Sam has already seen. Neither are really doing too well with the whole better than thou-emo-ness tonight.
The both of them sit in awkward silence thinking about how surreal this all feels.
"Dean?" Of course it's Sam who just has to break the bubble of silence.
"Mmm?" Dean grunts in an effort to respond.
"Will you do me a favor?"
"Whas'at?"
"Take the guilt, take the regret, take everything that you're thinking right now and just… just stop. Keep in mind that I'm over eighteen years old, I'm not a child, I'm more than capable of making my own decisions, and Dean, Dad would be so proud of you. You didn't somehow fail him by 'allowing' me to become this. I did this on my own."
Sam's perceptiveness causes Dean looks up at him with an unreadable expression. He's the expert at hiding behind a mask of steel. But finally he lets his guard down and allows his face to crack…
"Are you saying that you wanted this?" Dean asks like it's the most ridiculous thing that has ever even been thought. But he stops dead in his tracks whenever he sees Sam bite his bottom lip and look away; a sure sign that he's bottling everything up that he wants to say.
"You- you can't… want this, Sammy," Dean protests in such a low tone that Sam has to strain to hear it.
Sam snaps a fierce glare back to Dean. "And why not?"
"Because… Sam! I'm your brother! A hunter! I'm your freakin' hunter of a brother! You can't just be running around thinking that you're above the supernatural law just because your brother is a hunter!"
"Oh yeah?" Sam asks.
"Yeah," Deans says angrily.
"Is that right?" Sam asks raising his voice.
"That's right!"
"Well I've got demon blood in me Dean, running through my veins. So what do you think that makes me, huh? You always beat around what that really means, but you and I both know what that makes me. You say that I shouldn't be messing around with my abilities because I have a hunter for a brother. Well you shouldn't be hanging around with half-demons."
Dean looks at him incredulously. "Don't you say that, Sammy. DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT!"
They somehow find themselves standing.
"Well congratulations to me, Dean. I'm officially your biggest regret. In the future when you look back at this day and you remember raising me, loving me, taking care of me, just remember who the half demon is, and you will hate yourself."
Dean falls silent and turns around.
For one moment Sam actually gets to feel big, but then he's looking at his brother's back and Sam hasn't ever seen something so terrible in his life. The sight of Dean's shoulders jerking up and down as he quietly sobs leaves Sam irrational. He rushes to Dean, spins him around, and shoves him up against the wall.
"Wha-what are you doin, Sam?" Dean asks as he moves his head all around, not quite wanting to take his careful eyes off of his brother, yet not really wanting to look him in the eyes either.
He can see Dean's tears but he doesn't respond to Dean's weak protests.
Dean tries pushing him away at first, but Sam's hand finds itself resting over his heart.
"You knew this was going to happen someday. I mean it was only a matter of time before all of the training and hunting Dad forced us to do all of the time, the being cooped up in hotel rooms all our lives, constantly risking our lives, constantly killing, killing evil, yeah, but killing no less, was bound to make us… or at least one of us get all… wrong… like this."
"Yeah maybe, but it still doesn't make it right, little brother," Dean croaks.
"I know," Sam says.
Dean lifts his head and looks into Sam's face not expecting him to see his complexion a little gray, his eyes a little hooded with dark circles already forming underneath. He can clearly see that Sam's little fix with the demon blood earlier is already wearing off. But Dean also notices how Sam's mind hasn't caught up with the fact that his body needs that fix. And he dares to hope there's hope for Sam yet.
But suddenly that hand over his heart starts to tremble and the rest of Sam follows along with it. No, Dean can see it in Sammy's thirsty eyes. He's aware, completely and totally, utterly aware just how thirsty he suddenly is. Like, God forbid, he didn't get enough.
It's as if he's reading Dean's thoughts as he starts to back away slowly, on shaky legs he's heading for the door. Dean feels sick; he knows where he's headed. He wants to try and stop him but he's not entirely sure that Sam wouldn't hurt him.
"Sam?" he calls sternly. Don't do this. Demon blood will never be enough. You're already perfect. Just please... don't go.
Sam turns around with shame filled eyes and tears dripping from his jaw line. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."
End.