He couldn't move.
Not 20 feet away, Dean was watching Sam, his very own little brother, eviscerate the demon Samhain with nothing more than his mind.
His powers. The powers given to him almost 25 years to the day by the Yellow-Eyed Demon. The powers Sam assured him he would never use again.
As Samhain fell, Dean felt trapped in place. He could only stare at Sam. He had no strength to move, nor to hide the fear and sorrow he was consumed with. No game face on this time.
But as he watched Sam's legs buckle and saw him fall to the floor in a heavy heap, nothing else mattered except racing to Sam's side.
Cradling his unconscious brother in his arms, noting the paleness of his skin and the blood beneath his nose, Dean was hit with a deluge of emotions he couldn't begin to sort through. How could this be his Sammy?
The baby he'd carried from their burning home all those years ago.
The toddler he'd watched walk for the first time.
The pre-teen he'd played a rare game of catch with in some random town in between some unremembered hunt.
And the man who had become not only a great hunter but a loyal, fierce partner in war.
But to watch Sam use powers that had come from such evil was heart-breaking. Dean had meant it when he said if he didn't know Sam he would want to hunt him. He knew how much that had hurt Sam to hear, but at the time Dean was hurting too. All the lies, the secrets, the partnering with Ruby, it was just too much. How could this be happening to his family? To his brother?
His heart still aching, Dean felt Sam begin to stir and watched intently as his eyes opened to mere slits. For a moment Sam couldn't seem to focus and Dean worried that something had…broken…inside of him. After all, the way Sam had grasped his head, blood pouring from his nose, then the subsequent collapse, it couldn't be a . Maybe Sam had pushed himself beyond his capabilities without realizing it. Maybe he'd done some harm to himself. Dean prayed not because right now, he couldn't take much more, least of all a damaged Sam.
Dean watched as Sam's eyes finally found their way to his.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I had to."
Dean tried to answer but couldn't find his voice at the moment. He knew Sam would take the silence as a bad sign, but he just couldn't help it right now.
Indeed, Sam seemed to sink a little more into the floor when Dean said nothing, but with a whisper, he merely said "I'm sorry" again.
Dean did his best to reign in all he was feeling. It was time to make a plan. He gave Sam a little shake.
"We need to get out of here. Think you can stand?"
Sam's eyes opened again and nodded slightly.
Dean got up and carefully aided Sam to his feet, ever ready to catch him should he falter. He put Sam's arm over his shoulder, an arm around his waist and began to guide him toward the door. Sam looked down at Don briefly but said nothing. Just put everything he had into walking out of the mausoleum, hoping not only that his incredible headache would fade soon, but that he hadn't further weakened the increasingly shaky bond he had with his brother. He'd seen the look on Dean's face. He knew he'd gone back on his word not to tap into his abilities. But he'd had no choice. He just hoped Dean would find a way to understand that he'd done what he had to do.
For his part, Dean quietly guided Sam out of the building, giving occasional guidance and encouragement to keep him on his feet. It's what had to be done. Because Dean knew, at the end of the day, no matter what had transpired, no matter what he'd seen, no matter what had changed between them, one thing hadn't and never would -- Sam was his brother. His partner. Someone who had just helped save an entire town at risk to his own health. Bottom line:
The sun would shine.
The children would play.
And Sam and Dean Winchester were alive to fight another day.