Sam calmed fairly quickly and moved away, trying to wipe his face without Dean noticing. Dean mercifully pretended not to see anything.
He remembered Sammy when he was just a kid. He'd come to his big brother in tears and Dean would make it better and hold him until his crying tapered off until he fell asleep right there in Dean's arms, exhausted, clinging like a diminutive octopus.
Back in those days he had been Sam's hero and protector. If someone had come up to him then and told him a few years in the future Sam'd spend god only knew how many nights wondering if the coming day was the day that Dean finally killed him, he'd have beat them up into a coma. And yet, here they were.
But Sam trembling against him and wetting the material of his shirt with his silent tears fully woke that dormant protective big brother again and that Dean wouldn't have stood for all this, this distance and lack of trust and the hurting; Sammy hurting and unable to come to Dean.
Dean wasn't going to let things go on like that.
The younger hunter was still turned away, his posture screaming how miserable he felt. Dean took a deep breath, kept it in for a few seconds and then abruptly let it all out.
"Sammy?" he said watching as Sam froze and then turned to him, eyes huge and red. "I think we should talk, little brother."
Sam barely held himself from breaking down again. He missed the special nickname so, so bad. And now Dean called him that and his little brother practically in one breath! It felt huge, in his chest, in his throat, squeezing new tears from his aching eyes, but at the same time so good and warm. It felt like home. Like the embrace he was gifted not five minutes before…
Then and there he'd do anything Dean asked of him. Talking wasn't something he was looking forward to but if that was what Dean wanted…
Sam nodded his head, mutely.
Dean almost smiled, but the fear of what he might find out erased all traces of joy.
"So..." he began awkwardly. "Why-… why were you playing with that gun? Really, why?"
Sam sighed. "I… when you were… gone. It made me feel closer. To you."
Dean swallowed through constricted throat while his heart expanded in his chest, painfully thudding against his ribcage. "Closer to me?" he repeated questioningly.
"Yeah." Sam's lips formed a grimace. "I thought you died and it's not like human souls are a frequent occurrence in Purgatory. I was sure you went to Heaven." he fell silent for a few seconds. "I checked with Crowley anyway, and he said you weren't in Hell for sure."
"Sammy..."
"I was pathetic." Sam interrupted like he didn't even hear him; apparently the floodgates were open now. Dean was grateful that he wouldn't have to pry the confession from Sam. Listening alone would be hard enough, he suspected. "You were my stone number one." Oh. "And when I lost you I just… fell apart. My first thought was to get you back. I… tortured a couple of demons; it was history repeating… for a second I even wanted to storm Heaven, I was so messed up..." Sam snorted at himself. "But I had those moments of clarity, you know? And during one of them I realised what was happening. Because I was ready to tear the world apart, again, to get you back, and it wasn't like you were tortured this time. No, I thought you were happy. With Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Ash and everybody else and I was preparing to destroy that just to feel better.
"So I decided to do what I failed to do when the hellhounds-… I stopped hunting alltogether and… tried to live." he smiled sadly. "It didn't go that well."
"What do you mean?" Dean rasped, undone by the magnitude of what Sam was telling him, and so afraid of what he was going to hear next. His anger dissipated like vapor, swept away by understanding. He'd been furious that Sam had stopped hunting and hadn't been looking for him and it turned out Sam had been faring worse than he had. At least Dean's enemies had been corporeal. At least Dean had had something to fight for, someone to fight side by side with.
"I mean if it wasn't for Riot and… Amelia, we probably wouldn't have met in that cabin." And there it was. Dean's breath caught in his throat because he suspected, yes, but to have it confirmed by Sam was like his worst nightmare coming true. Dean couldn't imagine what it would be like, to escape Purgatory into the world that didn't have Sam in it.
"Never before have I seriously thought about it like that," Sam continued "but I didn't have a reason anymore, y'know? Nothing to keep me sane in here. And I'd rather die than put anyone in danger. Sorry for thinking of thrashing the Impala, by the way." he added with a joyless quirk of his lips.
Silence fell as Dean processed Sam's words and Sam stared at his hands, lost in memories.
"Are you still thinking of going through with it?" Dean asked. "Since you still… with the gun…" he explained lamely. Sam looked at him.
"No." he said decisively. "I told you I wouldn't do it now. I had thought about it when I was with Amelia. We… kind of helped each other stay above the surface but it was all there really was to it. And then Don miraculously came back to her and I left. She deserved to have her chance at happiness."
"And you were alone again." Dean prompted.
"Yeah well, not for long. I came to the cabin and there you were. My own miracle." he shook his head, sniffing. "As for the thing with the gun… well, I did it when I was with Amelia, 'cause I felt hopeless. When you came back I was still kinda unstable and you were just so angry. We kept clashing. It felt like for every step forward we made five steps backwards and it messed me up even more because you were right there but I still felt… alone." Sam admitted. "Worse, because I made the wrong call, failed you, again, and-"
"No, hey, Sam, stop." Dean interrupted finally. It was time he let Sammy off the hook, especially since hearing that confession made him realize exactly in what situation and state of mind Sam had been. He remembered when Sam was murdered in Cold Oak, how hopeless and broken he himself had been and it took only what, three days before he sold his soul to have him back? Sam, again, wasn't given an easy way out and again, tried to nonetheless make the best of it, with the last of his memories of the centuries-long torture he'd had endured in Hell tearing at him still. And truthfully, Dean had to admit he was grateful that Sam stopped hunting. A suicidal hunter is, after all, just a corpse living on borrowed time. Truest truth has never been spoken, even if Dean forgot who exactly came up with it.
"I'm sorry." he said sincerely and held up a hand when Sam opened his mouth to protest. "I was a dick to you. Purgatory had messed me up but I forgot that I wasn't the only one affected. You were hurting too and I ignored that because I jumped to wrong conclusions and didn't give you a chance to explain. I'm sorry for that."
"It's okay-"
"Sam, could you stop? I'm trying to make things right here!" Dean said and the muscles in Sam's jaw jumped but eventually he relented, shutting up and gesturing for Dean to continue. "So, I was wrong. You didn't let me down. In fact I think you did exactly what you should have done. You stayed safe until I was able to come back and that's all I could really ask for." Sam's lips started wobbling. Dean gulped but went on. "And man, I'm sorry for giving you crap about Amelia. I'm actually grateful for what she and that dog did for you, so don't feel bad or like you failed me. It's okay, Sammy."
Sam took a second to get himself under control after that little speech. Eventually he took a shuddering breath and smiled at Dean; a true, shy little smile. It made Dean's inner big brother purr in contentment.
Then Sam spoke again. "I'm sorry too, Dean."
"I think I just told you t-"
"Not for that. For Benny. I'm sorry for how I reacted to him. I'm grateful that he had your back when I wasn't there, that you weren't left alone. I was just… scared." he admitted quietly.
"Why would you be scared? Of him?" Dean asked, confused.
"Well… you called him your brother. Things between us were strained, to put it mildly, and you two are so close… Of course I was scared."
"You thought I would replace you?!" Dean said incredulously and Sam shrugged one shoulder; a clear confirmation, especially since he also made an effort to evade Dean's searching gaze. "Sam, I could never replace you. You're my little brother and man, you had my back all my life, a few months aren't gonna make a difference."
"Thanks… for saying that." Sam smiled at him again, that sad little smile. "I know what it's like to be possessed by a spirit that makes you hurt the people you love; I'll never forget what had happened in that asylum, when Ellicott got to me… the things he made me say and do even tough I never felt like that… so I tried not to take it to heart when you were under the influence of the spectre but it wasn't very easy…" he admitted. Dean blinked, shocked. Sam still remembered that? Still hasn't let it go when even Dean had? (And how can he throw the L-word so casually?!)
"Sam…" Dean pursed his lips, worried. "Can you tell me what I said to you with that penny? I don't really remember and it was probably lotsa bad shit…"
Sam kinda curled on himself and cleared his throat. "It, well, it wasn't…" he stuttered clearly unwilling to talk about it. Dean wouldn't have it. "Don't try to spare my feeling or whatever, okay? Just tell me!" he urged. Sam turned away from him and sighed.
"You said that Benny's been a better brother to you these past few months than I ever was." Dean sucked in a breath and opened his mouth to protest but Sam held up his hand, stopping him. "You also brought up my shitty choices over the years: demon blood and Ruby, letting you down time and again, running around soulless, working with Samuel… and Amelia. And you pulled a gun on me. But that's really it." Sam assured him eagerly; it felt like he was assuring mostly himself and it broke Dean's heart. "And we already talked about Amelia and Benny and obviously you don't want me to die so it's, it's okay, really."
Dean maybe would have believed him if he wasn't still turned away.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy" he said, truly meaning the words, though still feeling off saying them. He's never been one to apologize with words, even to Sam. Mostly he'd just make a gesture, call Sammy bitch, tousle his hair or buy him one of his girly foods. Sam always got it.
"Don't." Sam rasped. "You don't have to, I told you it's fine."
"It's really not. Like being soulless was your choice. God, you probably think I'm full of shit but I did mean it every time I told you it wasn't your fault, what the soulless you did. 'Cause it wasn't really you and I never blamed you for the things he did topside while Lucifer tortured you in the Cage." Dean's tone was pleading and maybe it was that or just Sam being tired of fighting but the kid sat kinda straighter, sighing, and looked at him from the corner of his eye.
"Thanks, Dean." he said quietly. Dean steeled himself before continuing.
"As for Ruby…"
"You can't really say that shit wasn't my fault." Sam interrupted him, curling his hands into fists 'till his knuckles turned white, pure self-loathing ringing in his voice. "Instead of doing what you told me to I let her manipulate me and get me hooked on the blood. I let Lucifer out of his Cage-"
Dean's hand on Sam's lips cut off anything else Sam was going to say. His patience finally ran out. Sam blinked at him, half shocked and half annoyed. "Shut up, would you? I think I get why you did all that, I just had to look at things from your perspective. Besides, It's forgiven already. You kind of made up for all of it when you let Lucifer possess you, took control and jumped into his Cage, dragging him and Michael with you, where you spent centuries being tortured, okay?"
He felt when Sam's lips trembled under his palm and he kept it there, gentling his touch. "And killing Lilith only opened the Cage because I started torturing souls in Hell so if we're blaming anyb-"
"Dean you were tortured!" Sam exclaimed frantically, having pulled Dean's hand away, squeezing it in his hands instead. "Nobody's going to blame you for trying to save yourself! I on the other hand-"
"Do you want me to blame you or what?" Dean cut him off mid-word. "'Cause it feels like you do. Just let it go, man, I forgave you, okay? Everybody makes mistakes." he assured Sam, noting how he jerked at the last word. "Me, you, hell, angels. Don't feel guilty anymore, okay? Because as far as I'm concerned it's all water under the bridge. And anyway I was going to say that if we're blamin' anybody it should be Heaven and Hell." he added.
Sam sucked in a breath, his eyes shining, and got that determined look on his face. "If we're doing it, then you don't feel guilty either." he demanded. Dean's throat tightened but he managed to say "I'll try."
This time there were dimples.
And if Sam's breath stuttered where Dean felt in on his neck, squeezing Sam to himself and being squeezed back within an inch of his life, well, his own cheeks were wet so he let it slide. Everything was finally right in his world. He had Sam, safe and happy, sitting right there beside him, and their bond healed and warm in his chest.
And that's all he ever really needed.