A/N: This is the final chapter in this series. Tag to 6:20 but before 6:21.

A/N: Special thanks to Ericka Jane for the awesome beta services.

THREE

Sam sprinted up the stairs as fast as his mile-long legs would carry him. He burst into Bobby's guestroom, took one look at Dean and knew instantly his brother was dreaming about hell. Dean was on his side, curled foetal and shaking violently. Regular nightmares made Dean thrash angrily or toss with agitation; but when he dreamed about hell he was cowed and fearful. When he dreamed about hell there were gasps of terror and screams of pain.

Rushing to the bedside, Sam took Dean by his shoulders and tried to shake him awake. Dean's arm swung out and Sam barely avoided a fist to his face. Recovering quickly, Sam used the advantage of being fully awake to pin his still sleeping brother's hands to his sides in an attempt to subdue him. Dean fought back vigorously, wrenching out of the restraint.

"Dean!" Sam said urgently. "It's me, wake up!"

Dean's eyes flew open and he looked around desperately. Sam cupped Dean's face with his hand and forced his brother to look at him.

"It's me; you were having a bad dream. You're OK."

With the horror of the nightmare still weighing down on him, Dean sat up quickly, fighting to breathe, fighting for calm, fighting for sanity.

"You're OK," Sam repeated, trying to sound reassuring. Dean had that tone down to a precise science. When he pulled Sam out of the grips of a petrifying dream, Dean's voice was the sound that guided Sam back to calm and convinced him that the terror that was pursuing him wasn't real. Now, trying to return the favour, Sam felt miserably inadequate. When would all things be equal? When would his presence and his own calming words ever be enough to convince Dean that he was safe?

Maybe today, Sam thought hopefully, when his big brother leaned on him and clung as he gasped for breath. Dean's heart was pounding so hard Sam could feel it drumming against his own chest. Silently, Sam held Dean hoping his comfort would still his brother.

"It's OK," Sam reassured. "You're safe."

And maybe today, Dean would believe him. Maybe today his big brother would acknowledge that Sam had grown up and could give back as much he always took.

Then reality set in.

Dean realised that the unthinkable was happening; he was falling apart and his little brother was trying to hold him together. Dean Winchester, who was always prepared for any eventuality, was losing his grip and his baby brother, the Princess of Emotion, was helping him to hold on. Dean felt as if the entire world was turning upside down right in front of him. First Cas had lost his mind and now he was here acting like a freaking wimp. He had to get a grip, and fast.

Suddenly Dean pulled away from Sam, pushed off the blankets and got up from the bed.

Sam immediately recognised the signs. His brother, the consummate stoic with the impenetrable emotions had actually let his guard down, and was struggling to yank it back up.

"Dean," Sam got to his feet and stepped towards his brother. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Dean insisted, backing away. "Just give me a minute."

"You're shaking and you can hardly breathe. You need to calm down."

But Dean's fear and anxiety were fading fast, giving way to anger. He was angry at himself for freaking out like a freaking girl as if he'd never had a bad dream before. He was even angrier at Sam for not having the good sense to stay the hell away until he could pull himself together.

"Just leave me alone."

Sam found himself staring at his brother's fast retreating back as Dean bolted from the room, then at the door which was slammed with enough force to shake the entire house. Without missing a beat, Sam took off after Dean and caught up with him as he blew through Bobby's front room.

"Where the hell are you going?" Sam demanded when Dean grabbed his car keys off the small table that stood beside Bobby's front door.

"To clear my head," Dean shouted without looking back.

The response was punctuated by another resounding door slam and brief earth tremor.

Sam kept up the chase and managed to head Dean off as he was opening the driver's door of the Impala.

"Give me the keys," Sam demanded.

"Get out of my way," Dean warned.

"There is no way I'm letting you drive when you're in this condition. Give me the keys, NOW."

When Dean tried to get by him, Sam grabbed for his hand and tried to wrench the car keys away. Reflexively, Dean shoved his brother aside, yanked the driver's door open, got in and slammed it.

Sam rounded the Impala, jumped in on the passenger side and managed to grab the keys while a still shaking Dean was fumblingly trying to insert them in the ignition. In a few swift movements, Sam rolled the passenger window down and flung the keys out. Then he grabbed Dean back as his brother was trying to turn to open the driver's door.

"Sit the hell down!" Sam yelled.

Dean shot his brother a warning stare.

"Sam," Dean seethed. "I told you to leave me alone."

"You were dreaming about hell weren't you?" Sam asked, undaunted by the controlled fury in his brother's tone.

"Let it go."

"No. Tell me what's going on."

"Sam, I'm warning you for the last time. Let it go."

"Or what Dean? You're going to hit me? In case you haven't noticed I can take a punch. Every time crap goes down and you're hurting you keep everything inside. When I try to help you either turn up the music, walk out on me, or threaten to bash my face in and I cave every time because like an idiot I always feel like I've gotta let you keep your pride. Well not anymore, Dean. So we can do this the easy way or the hard the way, but we're gonna do it."

"Don't make me hurt you, Sam."

"Take your best shot and I swear to God I will beat you so bad you'll end up in the ER and when they pump you full of pain meds, you'll be too damn high to remember to keep those walls up and shut me out."

The fuse on Dean's temper blew sky high but it was the steering wheel that felt his wrath instead of his brother. And once Dean had driven his fist into the dense circle of metal the fight went out of him, leaving only despair in its wake. He leaned back against the bench seat covering his face with his hands. Usually he knew which buttons to push to get Sam to back off. But this time, he'd fired the heaviest weapons in his arsenal and his little brother hadn't flinched. Maybe it was time to accept that he didn't always have to be the strong one. Maybe it was time to lean on Sam as a first resort.

For his part, Sam waited silently, unsure of what to expect next. He was surprised to hear a quiet confession.

"You were right about one thing," Dean admitted softly. "I was dreaming about hell."

Instinctively, Sam wanted to reach out but he kept his hands at his side and let his brother continue.

"Any time I dream about it, it's like I'm right back there with all those gut wrenching sounds, those god-awful smells and the pain that makes you regret the day you were born. Only this time it was worse because Cas was the one torturing me. Do you know what it's like to look into the eyes of someone you trust as they're sticking a hot iron in your gut?"

"Unfortunately, I do."

"How?" Dean turned to look at his brother but Sam looked away. When his brother didn't meet his eye, Dean had his answer. "They didn't."

Sam sighed long and hard.

"They did," he said pressing his lips together. "Both Michael and Lucifer thought it was more fun to torture me when they looked like you."

"What?"

"They didn't just want to hurt me, they wanted to destroy me. And they knew that would break me."

"Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and glanced out the passenger window. "The only thing that got me through it was that I knew, no matter what happened, you'd never hurt me like that."

"Damn right I wouldn't," Dean assured. "But with Cas I couldn't assume that; not in a nightmare and not in reality."

"He can't hurt you, Dean," Sam turned to look back at his brother. "I already told him, if he tries to lay a hand on you, he's gonna have to come through me."

"Told him? When?"

"We spoke while you were asleep. Well, I did more yelling than anything else."

"Why did he show up? He and I didn't exactly part on good terms."

"I called him. I thought I could talk some sense into him. He just ended up trying to play head games with me."

"Head games?"

"Yes. I confronted him about how you felt about his little alliance with Crowley and he basically told me that I had it twisted, and I was taking my misplaced guilt out on him."

"Guilt about what?"

"Ruby."

"He brought that up?"

"Well he seemed to think that I was trying to prevent him from betraying you because I'm anxious to make up for my own disloyalty."

"Bastard," Dean cursed. "I should kick his butt just for that. I keep saying it Sammy, that's all dead and buried and if he ever brings it up again I'm going to administer a particularly painful de-feathering."

"I know it's dead and buried, Dean. Cas was just trying to rattle me and it didn't work."

"Yeah, well if your little performance a while ago is any indication, I can see why. Did you threaten to send him to the ER too?"

Sam had to laugh and after a moment, Dean joined in.

"You know," Sam said soberly, when the giggling had subsided. "I shouldn't have to threaten you to get you to talk to me. That's really dysfunctional Dean, even for us."

Dean looked away from Sam; away from the hurt in his brother's eyes and away from the disappointment in his voice.

"Any time you're really upset about anything and I wanna help, it's like I have to go through you to get to you. I shouldn't have to do that to get you to open up to me. You should trust me by now."

"It's not a matter of trust, Sam."

"Well if it's not that then it just your ego and that hurts even more. Dean, you're my brother and there isn't anything or anyone that is or will ever be more important to me. And you talk a good game but I know you're not made of steel and from now on, I'm not gonna let you get away with trying act like you are. I'm gonna keep pushing you to talk to me when you're upset. I'm gonna be there for you when you're hurt and I'm not gonna let you push me away or shut me out. I'm going to take care of you no matter how hard you try to make it for me. And I really hope that one day you'll stop trying to make it hard."

There were times when Dean looked at Sam and saw the six year old who would always reach for his hand if they were together in a crowd. But at times, he saw the man Sam had become: wise, noble, and strong.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. Sometimes I forget that my little brother is a grown up."

"Don't worry," Sam snickered. "Sometimes I forget too."

A comfortable silence lapsed for several moments before Dean leaned back and sighed. "How did we end up here?" he asked. "Isn't this conversation supposed to be about Cas and the ultimate betrayal?"

"We always end up here," Sam shrugged. "No matter where we start it always comes back down to you and me. I went to all the way to Stanford and several other places I won't even mention to find that out."

"And I took a round trip to hell."

"Nothing like that is ever happening again. We've both learned the hard way. No deals. If Cas can't learn from our mistakes, then we can't help him."

"You're right about that. So no more late night summonings for him to try to fill your head with crap about the past, you hear me?"

"Yeah, I do, but it wasn't all bad between me and him. And the last thing he said, once he'd warned me to back off, was that I should take care of you."

"You're making me cry, Sam."

"I'm serious, Dean. He actually said that he knew you could get through anything as longs as I was with you."

Dean was silent for several moments. "Well," he shrugged as if it was no big deal. "At least that moron got one thing right."

Sam's grin spread at least a mile wide. "So on that note, I shouldn't get any attitude if I tell you that you need to get upstairs and lie down."

"Sam," Dean started to protest but his brother cut him off.

"Dean, you haven't gotten any sleep and you know what happens when you get cranky, you walk around looking for a fight."

"I'm not tired."

"No, you're exhausted and you said you weren't going to make this hard."

"OK," Dean held up his hands to silence his brother. "I'm going."

He opened the door, got out of the Impala and waited while Sam retrieved the keys which had landed a short distance away from the car.

When they were back inside the house, Sam steered Dean to the staircase and then guided him back to the guest room. "In," he said pointing to the bed closest to the door. "Now."

"You know," Dean reasoned, "With all this little brother bossiness you're probably disturbing the natural order."

"No I'm not," Sam insisted. "It's perfectly natural to protect what means the most to you."

Dean couldn't argue. His entire life had been a testimony to that fact.

THE END