A/N: A little drabble, to commemorate the merry days of yore when Sam *did* appear to give a damn about his brother's many trials and tribulations, and acted/felt accordingly.
Set right after the closing scene of 'Heaven and Hell', season 4. Brief mention of the closure to 'Wishful thinking'. Sam's POV.
Disclaimer: None of the characters, plot-points, inherent to the show, belong to me.
Counted sweetest*
Dean was crying. Not gulping down stifled sobs discretely. Not brushing away a stray tear. Just crying. Openly. Exposed bare.
Sam wasn't certain he'd ever witnessed his brother lost or broken like that. Ever. Not even after Dad died. There was so much bitterness and sore resentment in Dean then. Vigor too. Seeing his brother reduced so small now, by the sheer weight of memories he couldn't be spared of, drove Sam to envision all kinds of ways, by no means painless or neat, he would tear Lilith apart. Piece by piece. Drove Sam to avow he'd do whatever it takes, become whatever it takes, to be strong enough.
In the meantime, Sam moved closer over the hood, clasping a hand over Dean's shoulder. Careful not to startle; unwilling for the moment to end just yet, for Dean's sake if not for his own. That his brother would even allow the morsel of comfort should've been hint enough how horribly off he was.
Dean needed all the time in the world to mourn the part of himself, lost in the Pit, if he was ever to consider forgiveness. Sam was sure of that much.
More sure still, Sam could bet Dean was wrong the other day. Sam did understand. The part about wishing not to feel anything, at the very least. Dean had been gone four months. Sam did know a thing or two about Hell.
*Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.
(by Emily Dickinson)