A/N: Okay, so hi. I've written plenty of fan fiction before, but never for the Supernatural realm. I've read a ton of it though, so hopefully that counts for something.

This particular story involves the events of season nine and ten. If you're not caught up on the show, I wouldn't read this fic. You'll be spoiled. Also, The Darkness doesn't exist in this fic. So pretend that was never an issue. Hope you enjoy the read!

"Sibling relationships...outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust."

- Erica E Goode

Dean sat at the edge of his bed, watching his brother as he slept.

Dean had actually tried to kill him. He tried to kill Sammy, the one he vowed to keep safe at all costs. It wasn't even a onetime thing – Dean directly and indirectly put his brother's life in danger three different times. No matter what he did, he couldn't get those pictures out of his head.

With Sam screaming out and pleading with Dean nearly every night in his sleep, he knew his brother couldn't either.

The Mark of Cain had really done Dean in. He hadn't entirely known it then, but now that he was free, he realized just how out of control he was. He had slaughtered people who didn't deserve to lose their lives, he had assaulted Cas just for trying to help, and worst of all, he had Sam scavenging to save his life for months. While his brother had desperately tried to do so, Dean only gave him a hard time.

After he'd died at the hands of Metatron, he was something he had prayed he'd never become: a demon.

Dean remembered every single moment of his demonic presence. He remembered the time where he told his own brother that he was the reason for their mother's death. He remembered the moment he chased Sam around the bunker with a hammer, wanting nothing more than to end his life, when all Sam wanted to do was save his. His brother had insisted that it wasn't a big deal, but he could see it in his eyes that yes, it was a big deal.

Things went back to normal for a while, until the Mark acted up again. He partially knew what he was doing, but it wasn't like he could just stop. He remembered the first massacre that went down – he hadn't meant to do it, but he felt like his body was in control of itself. Sam had walked in, trying to convince himself that Dean had to do what he did, even though they both knew that wasn't the case.

After several leads and no news, the Book of the Damned came about. While Dean didn't make Sam do it, he nearly died from blood loss from trying to get it. Charlie assured them that it had the answer, but Dean could feel the Mark trying to take over again. When the Stynes came to take it, he told his brother to burn it.

He really thought Sam had listened to him. He watched a book go up in flames, but it took weeks for him to find out that the book wasn't capable of being destroyed. He went off on Sam and told him to call off the entire operation, but his brother still wouldn't listen.

Sam's attempt to rid Dean of that stupid mark only led to their friend's demise - Charlie. He knew he shouldn't have yelled at him like he did. He knew Sam wanted to protect her, and Charlie could've walked away if she wanted to. He told the man that he had protected since he was four that, instead of her, instead of everyone else, Sam should've been the one dead. He would never forget the look that fell across his brother's face when the words left his mouth.

Dean didn't stop there. Of course he didn't. He wiped out the Stynes; he even murdered an innocent kid who was hardly involved. After that, the Mark gave him the audacity to call in Death, actual Death, and try to make a deal.

A deal that somehow shifted from his death to Sam's.

He had lured Sam to the bar he hung out at so often, and told him that his death was the only way that this could go down. He told his brother that he was wrong to keep him alive during the trials, and that he should've let him die then.

He had eventually gone as far as to hold Death's scythe over his kneeling brother's head. The tears in his eyes made him feel a twinge of guilt, so to stop that feeling, he told Sam to shut them.

He had nearly done it. It was a quick decision not to; after Sam showed him those pictures of their mother, he couldn't do it.

What killed him the most was that he didn't spare Sam because he was Sam. No, it was because he thought about his mother, and what she would've wanted him to do.

He knew he had no right to be blaming himself, but Dean felt guilty. He put his little brother through hell, and that was the last thing he needed. Sam constantly dealt with issues in the head, and Dean just gave him another one. Because of that stupid mark, his Sammy nearly died three times, and they were all to save his sorry ass.

Even with both of them struggling with the previous events, neither had invoked a "chick-flick moment" to sort it out. Usually Sam pushed them in that direction, but this time, he didn't seem to want to talk about it. It was practically the opposite of the usual; this time, Dean was the one that wanted to talk, and Sam was the one trying to avoid it.

He wasn't sure how to approach his brother either. He was able to muster enough courage to apologize to Cas, and the angel had instantly told him that there was nothing to forgive. He tried to fight him on that one, but Cas firmly stated that if he hadn't had the Mark, he wouldn't have done it. The angel was right about that one; he'd never intentionally hurt Castiel. Just like he wouldn't intentionally hurt Sam.

A sharp breath escaped from his brother's lips, and he knew it was going to be one of those nights. The one where Sam wakes up after some nightmare that's surely about him, and thinks Dean doesn't notice.

Dean knew Sam like the back of his hand, so of course he noticed. He would listen as Sam would get to his feet, pacing around and speaking quietly to himself. He would hear his brother fall apart, but fall back asleep by the time the sun rose.

Tonight, though, he wasn't going to let it slip. That's why he was wide awake on his bed, staring at the man whom he'd grown up with. If he could take even the tiniest bit of pain away from him, Dean thought it was worth it.

He shouldn't have waited this long, but at least he was doing something about it now.

Deciding not to say anything just yet, Dean kept his eyes on Sam, hoping that maybe he wouldn't go any further than this. Maybe the nightmare would simply subside, allowing his brother to get some decent sleep.

His brother had always had problems with nightmares. Ever since he was little, he woke up screaming for all sorts of reasons – clowns, midgets, bees. As he got older, his nightmares began replaying his worst memories – Jess' death, Ruby's betrayal, Castiel's disappearance, but most of the time? It was something revolving around Dean. According to his brother, Dean died a lot when his eyes were closed. He knew that pain though; Sam died in his dreams too. In his more recent ones, he was the reason for it.

He hated being the reason Sam lost out on so much sleep. If he could change it, he would but as he learned, Sam had a harder time without Dean in the picture; there wasn't much he could do. He couldn't wipe those memories from his head, and even if he had the ability, he wouldn't. He would never violate his brother like that, because those were his memories, bad or not. He would not mess up his brother's head again.

"Dean…"

Sam's voice wasn't louder than a whisper, but Dean could decipher it perfectly. His tone wavered between sadness and fear, and it was a lot like the one he had heard in that stupid bar.

Sam's body then began to struggle against an invisible force, and Dean called it quits. The pain contorted on his little brother's face was too hard to handle, and he wasn't going to sit and watch him break again.

Dean's name flew from his brother's mouth repeatedly, and with that, Dean started shouting his. He didn't want to startle his brother, but he started shaking him anyways.

It didn't take long for Sam's eyelids to spring open, and Dean's heart broke into even more pieces.

As soon as Sam saw him he retreated away, as if Dean was actually going to hurt him.

"Sammy, hey." Dean kept his voice soft, the kind of gentleness he saved for occasions like this. Moments where Sam wasn't doing well, though this time, it was different. It wasn't because of some monster, it wasn't because of the Apocalypse, and it wasn't because of Lucifer. It was because of him.

His brother slowly raised his head, his eyes finally meeting Dean's for the first time in days. Pain, all he could see was pain.

He was prepared to give Sam a minute or two to compose himself, figuring his brother needed it. It seemed like he was going to take that time, but within an instant, he was disregarding it.

"Dean, I-I killed Mom. I killed Charlie… I-I'm sorry." Sam's eyes started to water, and Dean finally came closer. He sat on his brother's bed, shaking his head.

"No, you don't need to be sorry." Dean's voice was gentle again, but he made sure it was firm enough that his brother would listen. "Mom was killed by damn Yellow Eyes, not you. You were six months old, you didn't choose for her to go. Charlie…" He missed her an incredible amount. He saw her as his long-lost sister, and the pain from her death had still affected him even when he was practically a demon again. He cleared his throat, wanting to be perfectly clear. "The Stynes killed Charlie. She was in a dangerous situation, but she made that decision. She knew the possible consequences. If it was the other way around, if I was trying to save you… It would've went down the same way, Sammy. You cannot keep blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault."

Sam took a second to take in Dean's words, and even before his little brother opened his mouth, he knew his explanation wasn't accepted.

"I might've… I might've not been the one that set the flame, but I-I'm the reason the flame was set." Sam's lip quivered slightly, immediately taking Dean back to when they were kids.

When they were growing up, Sam was rather… sensitive. Their father would continually remind him that "The Winchesters don't cry", but that never seemed to stop the kid's eyes from welling up. When he was younger, Dean always held him when he cried, making sure he knew he wasn't alone in whatever he was going through. Even if it was something silly like a lost toy or a forgotten homework assignment, Dean did as much as he could to get Sam's smile back on his face. To him, Sam's happiness was everything.

That hadn't changed.

"I knew Charlie wasn't safe, but I left anyways. I left to find you, because you were scaring me, Dean. You were slowly becoming a demon again, and the thought of this heartless, reckless spirit taking over you… I-I couldn't lose you again, Dean."

A stray tear slipped down Sam's cheek, and it took Dean everything not to wipe it away himself. He wasn't sure whether it was okay to touch him or not, and he didn't want to chance him shutting his mouth. He needed his brother to talk.

"I-I should be dead, Dean."

His little brother's words echoed through the room, and for a moment, it was entirely quiet. Not a word was said because Sam was once again breaking, and Dean was on the way there. His brother shouldn't be thinking or talking this way. He shouldn't be feeling like everything that had happened was his fault, and because of that, thinking he deserved his life to be taken from him. Sam didn't ask for any of this; he tried to turn away from the life on multiple occasions, but he kept coming back because Dean begged him to. If anyone was to blame, it was Dean.

"Sam, look at me."

Even with his steady tone, Sam didn't follow his instruction. Needing his attention, but not wanting to startle him, he gently placed a hand on each of his cheeks, making his little brother look at him.

"You're not one of the monsters we hunt; you don't deserve to die. You did the best you could in a shitty situation. I sure as hell know that if you were the one with that mark, I would do anything to get it off of you. What happened to Charlie, that isn't on you. And Mom… She chose to save you, Sammy. You were too young to understand. It wasn't your fault."

Sam moved away from his hands, and for a small moment, they were just up in the air. Dean gradually lowered them, staring at them as if they were still held some type of evil. He then looked back at his brother, who just like a broken record, said the same thing. "I killed them, Dean. Y-You should've killed me."

What was it going to take to get through to this kid? He wanted to get angry at him, scream at him until he was red in the face that he wasn't to blame, but he looked so fragile. It was the same fragility that he saw in Sam when he was only a child, when he hardly understood the world of monsters around him.

He racked through his brain, and for some reason, Good Will Hunting came to mind. While the situations were partially different, they were partially the same. Will was abused as a child, and all through his life, he blamed himself for it. Sean wanted him to understand that it wasn't, that it had nothing to do with him, but nothing seemed to hit. That's when Sean started repeating the same sentence over and over, until Will finally took them.

So in an attempt to reach out to his little brother, Dean spoke again. "You're my brother, I'm never going to take your life from you. It wasn't your fault."

His brother looked at him like he was crazy; he was the broken record now. Before Sam could even get another word out, Dean moved his hand and gently lifted his little brother's chin, whispering, "It's not your fault."

Sam's eyes began to well up again, and for once, Dean was content with that. The kid hadn't cried properly in ages, and from his experience, it seemed to help him.

He continually said that he didn't want any "chick-flick moments", but he would always make exceptions to that rule for his brother. Always.

Dean put one of his hands back on Sam's right check, repeating himself once more: "It wasn't your fault."

That did it.

As soon as a soft cry escaped his brother's lips, he moved his hand and tightly wrapped his arms around him. Sam returned it, holding onto him so tight, Dean almost couldn't breathe.

He didn't dare move.

"I-It was so hard, Dean…" Sam let out another sob, though it was muffled as he hid his face in Dean's shoulder. Dean only rubbed slow circles into his back, wanting him to talk on his own terms. He didn't want to push anything. "When you… When I first found you, I was so relieved. Then I… I saw the blackness in your eyes, and… it felt like I lost you all over again."

Every word and cry that escaped his brother made Dean feel even more terrible, if that was even possible. The Mark of Cain hurt him, but it seemed to have broken Sam.

"An-And then we were okay again, but that stupid mark that you got because of me… it was destroying you r-right in front of me." Sam hid his face even further, mumbling a, "sorry," as he now noticed how damp Dean's shirt was.

Dean just shook his head, whispering "It's alright, Sammy. Go on."

Sam took a deep breath, continuing. "Y-You kept telling me there was no cure. Every time you… Every time you said that, I felt worse. Because everything I-I tried, it wasn't working. Then I-I went behind your back and I didn't mean to Dean, I just knew you'd get mad. It was selfish, but you're my only family, and I need you here." His brother moved his hand, wiping his eyes. His tears were beginning to slow down, but his voice stayed low. Dean never stopped rubbing his little brother's back.

"Then you found out, and you got mad. I went to go tell Cas to shut it down, but… they found something: him, Charlie, Rowena. I told them to keep going, even though Cas told me not to go against your wishes. I did anyways, and Charlie died because I didn't listen. And you… you told me I should've been the one to die, then you disappeared, Dean. I had to track you down, and when I did, you had me to go to this bar… And you told me that I had to die."

Sam continued on, speaking so softly that Dean couldn't hardly hear him.

"You told me that I should've died when we were doing the trials. You told me this was the only way, and I didn't believe you… We fought as if we were strangers Dean, we weren't even brothers anymore. After that last hit I-I gave up; I know that we're not supposed to ever give in but I-I had to. I gave you those pictures so you could remember the good: Mom. Then Death gave you his scythe, and you told me to close my eyes… An-And I did. But you didn't kill me, but I-I could see it in your eyes that that had been the plan…"

Sam took an unsteady breath, shaking his head slowly. Dean could feel another round of hot tears dampening his shirt, and all he wanted to do was take Sam's pain from him. He'd take all of it if he could.

His little brother tried to speak again, but instead, he resumed sobbing. Dean just held him as tight as he could, beginning to whisper comforting words into his ear to try and calm him down.

Dean continued until Sam finally calmed down again, his cries turning into occasional sniffles. They both let go of each other, but Dean firmly placed both of his hands on his little brother's shoulders.

"Sammy, I'm so sorry. You know I would never, ever hurt you like that. Everything that's happened, we have to let it go. If we don't, neither of us will ever move on." He took a deep breath, looking straight into his brother's eyes. "And don't you ever say you'd be better off dead. You do so much good for this world, and if you weren't here, I'd refuse to be a part of it. A place without Sam Winchester is no place I want to be."

Dean almost missed it, but a soft "Okay" left his brother's lips. For the first time in a while, Dean was able to smile.

"Good. Now how about we try and get some sleep, and when we wake up, we can go to that diner up the road. I heard they have outstanding apple pie there."

A small laugh escaped Sam's lips, and maybe, just maybe, things would end up okay. Dean moved his hands from his brother's shoulders, keeping his eyes on him.

"Why am I not surprised," Sam whispered as he laid back down, and Dean moved off the bed. He heard a small intake of breath from beside him, and once again he was staring at his little brother.

"I know we're not kids anymore, but… could you… It would be easier for me to sleep if you're not so far away."

Dean smiled softly, their childhood flashing back into his mind. His brother always asked for him to sleep next to him, and even though they were much older now, there was no way he would deny Sammy.

"Sure Sammy." Dean laid beside him, shutting off the lamp.

It didn't take long for Sam to fall back asleep, the room quiet except for his quiet breathing.

Yeah, it would be okay. Dean would make sure of it.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, or even if you hated it, please leave a review! Otherwise I can't learn from my mistakes, nor learn about what I'm doing right. My biggest concern was probably keeping the brothers in-character, so if you have the time, I'd appreciate any comments on that or anything else!

- Sammy Novak