The prompt for this chapter comes from Shannanigans:

I've got a request: after the darkness passes the Impala (treat the darkness however you like), Dean realizes that Sam is really hurt after the harsh beating. Please show the return of awesome big bro Dean! helping Sam with the pain. Perhaps Sam is so out of it he forgets Dean doesn't have the mark and is terrified of being beaten again. I'm easy going, so change this up as needed. Thanks!

I really have missed bigbro!Dean in the show. I had a simple idea of Sam having a concussion but I changed it when I watched the trailer for season eleven, the footage in that gave me some ideas. I went with a Dean POV, which resulted in Dean angst, but Sam is still hurt. Obviously, this is set in season 11, so there are spoilers for the season 10 finale, and some mild spoilers for season 11.

Dean was all too familiar with that feeling of impending doom. It was never really fear, he hadn't been afraid of monsters snapping their jaws at his face since he was fifteen. It wasn't dread, he knew he was going to die one day, that's just how it was. But still, his heart beat a bit faster and his breath came a little quicker. It was his body forcing him to get ready; run, fight, save Sammy.

He'd just come so close to screwing up his one job; take care of Sammy. He'd come so close to slicing his own little brother's head off. He'd decided last minute that the most powerful entity in existence was not as important as Sam.

How fucked up were they?

How fucked up was it that Dean was in the Impala's driver's seat, with the back wheel well and truly stuck, and there was a huge smoky cloud of straight-up evil coming right at them, and they had nowhere to go, nowhere to run. How fucked up was it that the only thing on Dean's mind in those seconds before disaster hit was watch out for Sammy. Screw the world; screw everything, just save Sammy. Save the little brother he'd come so close to swinging a scythe at.

He looked to his right when Sam said his name.

"Dean," it came out breathy and almost shaking. Sam was asking for something. What do we do?

Dean knew Sam wasn't asking him that. The Darkness was already turning out to be way out of their league; it made the devil himself look like child's play. There was that tone in Sam's voice, the same one he'd used when they were kids and he'd have a nightmare. He'd slip quietly into Dean's bed and say his name, ever so quietly. Dean would pull the boy into his chest and wait for Sam to fall asleep before he followed suit.

Dean knew what that tone meant, he had for a long time. Don't leave me alone, is what it said, Stay with me.

Honestly, Dean wouldn't be anywhere else right now. Maybe he was about to be ripped apart by God-only-knows, but at least he'd have his brother at his side. Sam was grabbing his arm. It was almost like six years ago, Ruby was lying dead on the floor, Dean was trying to pull Sam out of the convent, Sam was staring into the open door.

He's coming.

The whole time Sam had been gripping Dean tight. I'm sorry.

"Dean!" there was that tone again, but it was more forceful this time. Sam had let go of him, bracing himself against the car. It was coming closer. Dean looked over and realised Sam had closed his eyes, just like he had moments earlier when he'd gotten to his knees, ready for Dean to kill him. Dean didn't even have a chance to do the same, the black washed over them, battering into every side of them like a hurricane. Sam was crying out beside him, but Dean couldn't see a thing, only darkness.

"Sam!" he cried back.

He could hear the Darkness. It was strong and forceful, making the Impala creak and groan as she was rammed from all side. But it was alive, Dean could hear it, whispering to him, he could feel the smoke of it snaking up through the vents and caressing his face. He shook it away, pressing himself into the wheel, hoping it would just get it over with.

There was screaming. Not him or Sam. The souls from the rack, he could hear them ringing in his ears. He gritted his teeth.

"You have to save Sammy," his dad was whispering, it was so real, Dean could even feel his breath by his ear, "If you can't, Dean, you have to kill him."

"You don't know me," Sam spat from his left, not his Sam, one from six years ago, "You never did and you never will."

"Cas is… he's gone. He's dead. We run the show now," He could hear from behind him. It's not real. It's not real, "Ah! This is going to be so much fun."

He gripped the wheel, fingers going numb.

"Idgits…" Bobby said on his last breath.

Then then the darkness cleared. Dean opened one eye. It was a warm sunny day, like it had been before all hell broke loose. He was still in the Impala and it was oddly quiet, only a bird whistled contentedly in the distance. Dean looked up to an empty passenger seat.

"Sam?"

He twisted around in his seat, looking around, he was completely alone. He called out for his brother again, getting out of the car, scanning his surroundings. Sam couldn't have just vanished. He couldn't have. Not when Dean was right there.

Something banging behind him had him spinning around. The door to the restaurant was swinging, Dean walked towards it, the door kept swinging until he was right in front of it. He put his arm out, ready to push the door open, when he noticed the marks still seared into his arm. He jolted back, fingers going to the raised, scarred flesh.

"No, no, no," he muttered frantically to himself. The mark was gone. It had been zapped right off his arm. His head snapped up at a clatter coming from inside. He pushed his sleeve down and shouldered his way in.

"Howdy, partner," the man had been dead a long time, so had the demon inside of him. The grin was the same; wide and white, like a local dentist that took pleasure in yanking your teeth out. It was the eyes Dean would never forget. Yellow eyes. The same yellow eyes that had watched happily as it tore his family apart; burned his mother, cursed and poisoned his brother, killed his father.

"How?" was all Dean could manage. Azazel, this had been the one monster Dean could never get over, the one who had haunted him all of his life. Dean would have rather taken on Dick Roman or Lucifer. Hell, hanging out with Metatron would be better than this.

"You've made quite a mess, Dean-o," Azazel grinned, "I'm proud of ya!"

"How?" Dean growled, not taking a step forward.

Yellow Eyes frowned. "You killed Death, kiddo," he pointed out, "There ain't no wall between the living and the dead. And you let out the darkness, you do realise that's the source of all evil… hence," he gestured to himself.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded. Yellow Eyes had the audacity to chuckle.

"That boy, huh?" he said fondly, "He always was my favourite. You know he's connected to me, had me coursing through his veins. He and I are practically family."

Dean advanced on him. "You son of a_"

Azazel tutted. "What are you going to do? You don't have a weapon."

Dean froze. Azazel perked up and pointed behind him.

"What about that big ol' scythe over there?" he suggested, "If it can kill death it can certainly take down little old me."

Dean found it in his hand, it was just as heavy as the last time.

"Where's Sam?" he asked again, glaring at the demon.

Azazel cocked his head to the side. "How do you know I have him? Maybe you do."

Dean was swinging the weapon before he could even process it. It met nothing. He looked up but Azazel was gone and Sam was kneeling in his place.

"Hello, Dean," Sam's mouth was smeared red, he smiled at him with bloody teeth, "Did you know the dead's coming back to life?"

Dean lowered the scythe, mouth hanging open. "Sam, what happened?"

"I found Ruby," he grinned, pupils blown wide.

"Sammy, no…" Dean breathed, despairing.

"I don't need you, Dean," Sam said, his irises were mostly consumed in black, "I'm stronger than you'll ever be."

Dean found himself raising the scythe. "You're not strong," he spat, "Try weak."

"I'm not some junkie," Sam insisted. Dean paused. He knew this conversation. They were going in circles. Lose Sammy, save Sammy, lose Sammy, save Sammy. "Dad always told you this might happen," Sam went on, his eyes were almost completely black, inhuman, "Maybe now is your chance. Just swing it Dean. You want to, I can tell."

"Sam…"

"I'm not human, Dean," Sam said, "Maybe I never was."

Dean gripped the scythe tighter.

"No," he said, dropping it to the floor with a clang, "You're my brother, always have been, always will be."

Sam blinked up at him, frowning.

"Let's go home," Dean extended his hand, "We'll fix you."

As soon as Sam's hand touched his Dean snapped awake. He was in the Impala again. He looked down at his mark-less arm and it occurred to him that he'd probably never left. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rear-view mirror, there were black veins up his neck but they were slowly receding to nothing.

The Darkness was a disease.

"Please…"

Dean turned around. Sam was still in the passenger seat, smoky tendrils were snaked up his neck, under his skin. He was pressed into the seat, eyes open and staring ahead at something only he could see.

"Sammy, look at me," Dean leaned over and grabbed Sam's face, turning it towards him, Sam just looked straight through, "It's not real, Sam, whatever you're seeing isn't real."

Sam flinched. "Dean…"

"I'm right here," he said softly, gently patting his cheek.

"Dean… please don't… "

Dean let go, as if his brother's words had physically shocked him. Sam winced again, grunting like he was in pain. Dean gripped the front of Sam's shirt and pulled him forward, and hand going to Sam's neck where the Darkness was twisting itself into him.

"Sammy, you need to snap out of it," Dean said sternly, "It's messing with you, showing you your worst fears. It's not real!"

Sam didn't snap out of it and Dean cursed. He's stopped the hallucination by not killing Sam. He was terrified of Sam's destiny, sure, but he was even more afraid of the mark and the way it had made him want to hurt his brother. The dream had stopped when he'd refused it. He'd faced his fears.

"Sam, you need to not be afraid of me," Dean begged, "You need to…"

God, Dean had no idea. He looked up at Sam's face, wincing at the sight of the bruises he'd put there. It looked bad. He checked them over, but it was difficult to tell when Sam wasn't exactly with it at the moment. He had a good idea of how bad it was when Sam's nose started to bleed.

"Shit…" Dean mumbled, yanking the bandana from his jacket, he held it under Sam's nose.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," he said, "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for not sticking up for you when you went to Stanford, I'm sorry for going to hell, I'm sorry for making you choose me over Amelia, I'm sorry for Gadreel, I'm sorry for the mark. I'm so sorry."

Gasping, Sam blinked himself back into reality. He shifted in his seat, his head, rocking around, eyes squinting.

"Sam?" Dean called hopefully.

He'd expected something other than what he got. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of him and he grabbed frantically at the door handle, letting himself tumble out onto the grass. Dean could see the black veins fading away, but Sam had a glazed look in his eyes which had nothing to do with the Darkness and everything to do with the beating Dean had given him.

Dean hurriedly got out of the car, rounding the hood to Sam, who was crawling on his back to get away.

"Can't do it…" Sam mumbled, "Please… I can't…"

"Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to break through to him, "Stop a second and let me look at you."

Dean was faster than Sam in his state; he strode over, practically looming over him. Sam lifted up an arm protectively over his face. Dean dropped to his knees, gently taking Sam's arm and pulling it away. Sam gasped when his defence was taken away and Dean gritted his teeth through it.

"Sammy, look at me," he ordered, trying not to sound too harsh. Sam's eyes met his, though they were bleary and frightened, not quite fully meeting his gaze. "Sammy," Dean urged, "I won't hurt you. Never again."

Sam seemed to be using a lot of his energy, trying to take the information in.

"Look," he yanked his sleeve up, revealing bare skin, "The mark's gone. It's gone."

He held it out in front of Sam, who looked at it as if he'd never seen anything like it before. Sam touched his arm, seemingly unsatisfied with only visual evidence. He let go quickly, glancing around, his forehead crinkled with confusion.

"Where?" he slurred a little, then cleared his throat, "Where'm I?"

"You found me, remember?" Dean said, "The mark is gone."

He didn't feel like reminding Sam of other recent events. Sam was still glancing around.

"I, uh, I beat you pretty good," Dean added, voice thick, "That's why you're feeling a bit slow, that and getting Darkness disease… whatever it was."

"The mark's gone?" Sam clarified, seeming to not hear, or pay attention to the rest of what Dean had said. He lifted a hand to his face, wincing when his fingers brushed the bruising on his upper cheek. Dean pulled his hand away.

"Don't touch it, okay?" he insisted, helping his brother to sit up properly, "Let me take a look."

Sam flinched a little, it made Dean feel a little nauseous. He wondered bitterly what his parents would say if they were here, they'd been the ones to explain how important being a big brother was.

'Careful, Sweetie,' Mary had said, placing a bundle of squirming blanket into his arms, 'He's only small so we have to be very gentle.'

'What's he called?' Dean had asked, looking down at the soft pink face wrapped in the blankets, two bright blue eyes gazed up at his sleepily. Dean had been very confused as to how his little brother had been a bump one day and a wriggling pink thing the next. No one wanted to explain to him either.

'Samuel,' John said from the other side of him on the couch, 'After your grandpa.'

Dean's nose scrunched up, 'He doesn't look like a Samuel. That name's too big for him.'

John chuckled and Mary kissed the top of Dean's head affectionately. 'We'll call him Sam for short,' she said.

Dean startled a little when Sam made a soft noise, almost a squeak. 'Did you see that?' he whispered with awe, 'He laughed.'

John chuckled again. 'I think it was a sneeze, kiddo.'

'Oh,' Dean said disappointedly, he'd been hoping that having a brother would be fun. He looked down again, feeling even more disappointed to see Sam's eyes drooping shut.

'But he just woke up,' Dean complained. Mary hushed him softly. 'Why's he sleeping again?' he asked in a whisper.

'Babies need a lot of sleep,' his mother said quietly, 'He runs out of energy very quickly.'

'I thought he was supposed to play with me,' Dean pouted. John ruffled his hair, chuckling softly again. He seemed to be doing that a lot when Dean asked questions about Sam.

'He'll play with you one day, bud,' his dad promised, 'You have to let him grow a little bigger first.'

'When will he be big enough?' he asked.

'He'll be walking in a little under a year.'

Dean's mouth dropped open. 'But that's forever away!'

'Oh, he'll be yapping your ear off before you know it,' John muttered knowingly. Dean wasn't listening; he was busy gazing intently at the sleeping baby that had been carefully placed in his arms. He wondered how Sam could possibly get any bigger; he barely even had any hair.

He understood what his mother had meant; Sam was tiny. He was much smaller than a lot of things Dean knew. That meant he should be kept safe, wrapped up in blankets like he was at that moment. Dean decided then and there that he'd be the best older brother there ever was.

Dean gulped, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes when he looked at Sam's beaten face, the way Sam flinched ever so slightly when Dean moved.

"Are you with me?" he asked. Sam nodded, though his glassy eyes said otherwise.

"M'just… God, my head hurts," he mumbled. Dean grabbed the penlight they keep in the glove box and shone it in Sam's eyes. Sam tried to look away before he realised what was going on. Dean let out a sigh of relief; Sam's pupils were reacting as they should.

"I'm gonna try to get the car on the road, okay?" he stooped down into Sam's line of sight. Sam looked at him for a moment, Dean didn't want to know what he was thinking, but Sam nodded and Dean got to work.

It took a few tries and a lot of muscle and Dean still hadn't gotten the car's back wheel out of the hole. Suddenly it was easier, Sam had grabbed the other end and the two of them lifted, managing to push the Impala back onto flat land. Sam leaned heavily against the trunk, head dipped forward as he took heavy breaths.

"Sammy, let's get you sitting down," Dean had already grabbed a hold of Sam's shoulder, steering him to the passenger side of the car. Sam sat down with a tired sigh, Dean knelt in front of him, a hesitant step away.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked. Dean scoffed.

"Me? I'm fine," he said, "You're the one with…"

He trailed off. The one with bruises all over your face. Bruises Dean had put there. He'd done that too many times over the years.

"The mark's gone," Sam said, as if Dean didn't know, "How to you feel now?"

Dean hadn't really given a lot of thought. "Lighter," he realised, "I didn't realise how heavy it was."

Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling painfully around the bruising, the cut on his cheekbone stretching a little. "It's gone," he said again, the words carried on a sigh of relief.

"What did you see?" Dean asked, "In the darkness."

"Doesn't matter," Sam said evasively, "It wasn't real."

"Seemed real to you," Dean pointed out, Sam didn't answer so Dean added, "I saw yellow eyes… and you."

Sam looked up, his hair was dangling over his eyes a little. "Oh yeah?" he pressed.

"It wasn't real though," Dean said, "That's how I woke up. I knew it could never be real."

Sam looked down, seeming to understand, Dean could see it in the way his shoulders dropped.

"I saw you too," he said quietly, he took a breath "But it was real."

"Oh yeah?" Dean answered, just a quiet.

"You chased me with a hammer… got a lot of hits in too," Sam shuddered, "Over and over. Then you were going to_"

He cut himself off, glancing over to the abandoned restaurant briefly. Dean understood completely.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little helplessly.

"Then I heard you," Sam went on, "Apologising. But when I woke up and you were right in my face… and my head hurt..."

"I'm so sorry," Dean choked a little. Sam looked up and frowned.

"Don't," he said quickly, "I meant it, you know. You will never hear me say that you are anything but good. I forgive you. I always will."

Dean looked down to his hands. He didn't deserve forgiveness. Not from Cas. Not from Sam. Not for what he'd done. He realised the irony of his being on his knees before Sam, but where Sam had been in his position Dean had been ready to kill him. Dean was on his knees for forgiveness.

Sam sat back into the car, groaning a little. Dean automatically got to his feet and hurried around to the driver's side. He put the key into the ignition, melting into the seat a little as the engine rumbled throughout the vehicle. Sam hissed a little in pain at his side.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"I'll be fine," Sam said, "We've got bigger problems anyway."

No we don't, Dean thought, a little selfishly, Nothing's more important than you.

He cleared his throat, pushing that thought to the back of his mind, setting the car back onto the road.

"The darkness brings out your darkest thoughts," Sam said, back into hunting mode, despite the strain in his voice, "What happens if people can't break out of it?"

"We'll see," Dean answered, turning onto the main road, "First we have to find Cas."

Sam nodded. "We've got work to do," he agreed.

I feel like this ended up being more Dean-centric, I did include Sam hurt and angst, but it was very Dean. I hope that's okay, I couldn't stop myself, it was an accident I swear. I'm sorry for going off-prompt (As I've done a couple of times) but I gave you baby!Winchesters to make up for it. Also, I thought that even if Sam was hurt, he would still be a little badass; getting Dean back on track. I know this wouldn't be how season 11 would be but it was an idea, if you've seen the trailer then you'll see where I got it.

Thank you for reading, please review, it really means a lot when you do.

Next up is whatnosheep.