A/N: Well, hey there! To everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, followed the story and me, thank you so much!

Here's a new chapter for you and a little more Hurt Dean. This chapter isn't from any of the brother's POV all along but you'll find it mixed and I did that for a reason and to pick up the pace of the story a little bit, so I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sometimes when you think the job is done it turns out that it's just getting started. After killing Randa Moreno, the person with Brick Holmes's heart, and stopping the deal's influence over the remaining people with his organs, Dean and Sam hit the road expecting the job was over as the following events prove them wrong. Hurt!Dean and a lot of angst including both brothers ahead.

Spoiler: Heartache 8x03 - Season 8.

Warning: For a bit of language.

Disclaimer: I own only this story, not Dean nor Sam .. more's the pity.

Beta: No one re-edited this chapter but me, so forgive me for any mistakes. :)


- Breakable -

Chapter 4

"The thing with brothers is, you're supposed to take turns being the keeper. Sometimes you get to sit down and be the brother who is kept."

~Orson Scott Card

Dean sat on the bed with his hands fisting the mattress as he watched Sam turn around and enter the bathroom. He knew Sam wanted him to stay put so he can check on his injury and he decided to let him do what he had to do because he didn't have the energy to put up a fight or argue with him.

What confused him was why Sam was still there, still with him. He thought he would leave after their little argument; or at least go for a walk if not running and leaving everything behind. It was how Sam reacted when things got too heavy to deal with anyway.

Dean almost squeezed his brain's cells, trying to fill the gap in his memories and remember what happened in the time between he was shouting at Sam and finding himself lying on the floor, Sam almost on top of him, but it was a blank and he came up empty. One thing he knew, he had freaked his little brother out, that was for sure. The dry traces of tears and the look in his brother's eyes were enough proof for him if the panic in Sam's tone that he didn't actually bother to muster wasn't anything to begin with.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Dean's eyes roamed the place around him, not really for any reason but distracting himself from the pain in his chest. He really, really wanted nothing but to curl on his side, call it a night and sleep everything off, but he knew that once Sam's mind was sat on something there was no way to escape. Why does he even care? Dean couldn't help but wonder.

He heard the water turn off in the sink and looked up at his brother, still avoiding looking directly into his eyes. He noticed Sam's disappointment in the way his shoulders sagged in defeat and the sigh of frustration he let out and it made him feel guilty for causing Sam to feel this way, but he couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye after what he had told his little brother earlier. He just couldn't.

"So, how you wanna do this?" Sam asked for nothing really but as a try to cut through the tension and start a casual conversation with Dean, he grabbed one of the small table chairs and placed it next to the bed where his brother sat.

"Just do what you gotta do," Dean told him, looking down and finding his feet really interesting at the moment.

"All right," Sam sighed and nodded. "Can you take your T-shirt off?"

Dean nodded silently and took a deep breath before his hands reached to the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it off; stifling a groan at the effort it took to do just that. Despite his distress he didn't miss Sam's harsh intake of breath as his bare chest came in view. He knew it wasn't his newest injury that forced this reaction out from his brother; it didn't look that bad when he was cleaning it up.

Sam swallowed thickly as he took in the various types of scars on Dean's chest that he knew weren't there before, well, a year before. He had enough experience to let him know what exactly each scar represented, and his brother's chest looked almost like a map made of claws marks, knives, teeth, even fingernails and other things he refused to think about. He didn't need to ask the question of how Dean had got these scars; he knew pretty well when and how he had got them.

"Enjoying the view?" Dean's thick tone cut through his train of thoughts and Sam forced himself to look away from his brother's chest.

"Sorry," Sam whispered, feeling like a child caught with a cookie before dinner time. Clearing his throat, Sam asked, "What did you use to clean these?" He nodded his chin towards the five cuts Randa's fingers had left on the skin above Dean's heart.

"Soap and water." Dean answered quietly.

"Okay," Sam looked at Dean, who still refused to look at him and it was getting even more awkward Sam was afraid if he did one wrong move Dean would pat his hands away and say he would take care of it himself.

"Do you mind?" He had to ask before starting to inspect the wounds. Dean shook his head 'no' and closed his eyes, straitening his back a little to give his brother the access he needed.

After a few painful minutes for Dean and uncomfortable for Sam, the youngest Winchester was satisfied there was nothing major, one cut was a little deep and would need a couple of stitches, the others would just heal on their own. But it still didn't explain the obvious pain Dean was in, or why he had stopped breathing not half an hour ago. Sam couldn't just shake off the feeling in the bit of his stomach that something else was going on here, which was causing his brother's distress besides these small cuts.

"There's one cut that I'll have to stitch, the rest look just fine," Sam told Dean as he started to clean the needle he used earlier to sew his head.

"Told you it was just a scar," Dean all but grumbled.

"Still doesn't explain why you fainted or …" Sam let the rest of his sentence trail off; he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Or what?" Dean raised his head at that, concerned by the way Sam's voice almost broke and the slight shaking of his hands.

Sam looked up and unconsciously let a sigh of relief when his eyes locked with Dean. He could see the pain in his brother's eyes. Not only the physical pain that he still couldn't find a way to explain, but also the pain and hurt what they said to each other earlier had caused.

It was the younger brother's turn to break the eye contact and look away as his own words echoed back to him.

"Or stopped breathing," Sam said finally in a strained voice. He heard Dean's 'huh' and shook his head at the lack of response and attention he always received from Dean when he was the one injured.

Fumbling with the first-aid kit contents for a clean cord, the flask of holy water caught Sam's attention. He looked up from the flask to Dean and the thought hit him.

"Hey, Dean,"

"Hmm?"

"I think, maybe we should clean the wound with holy water first," Dean didn't answer. "You know, just to be sure." Sam added.

"Sam," Dean almost whined. He was tired, he was really tired and he needed Sam to clean his wound and get it over with and stop nagging, stop talking, and stop telling him what the hell he was about to do and just freaking do it. He didn't really care what needed to be done as long as it was actually being done. "Just do what you think is best, okay?"

"Oh, okay." Sam was startled a little by Dean's response but he knew that he was hurting and not in the mood to listen to his rumble.

Sam put the towel he had brought from the bathroom on Dean's lap and stood up to maintain a better position. He put one hand on Dean's bare shoulder and started to pour the holy water on his brother's chest.

Sam wasn't ready for the yelp Dean let out once the first drop of water slid over his heart but he didn't stop. He realized it was the right thing to do as long as Dean was reacting to it this way, there was something else attacking his brother's body and he needed to get rid of it before it caused extra damage.

As Sam kept pouring the water on his brother's wounds, Dean's movement became more agitated and his pain was less controlled. Sam both watched and smelled the steam rising from the cuts before he was able to see the black liquid that Dean's heart was pumping and its track as it ran through Dean's visible vines.

"Ah … Sam, stop! Stop!" Dean's scream caught him by surprise and he tore his eyes from his chest. Sam looked up at Dean's face, which was screwed up in pain, his squeezed eyes leaking tears that ran along his face and mixed with his sweat.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm really sorry, but I gotta do this," Sam tightened his grip on Dean's shoulder, trying in vain to sooth and calm his brother down as he continued to pour the water over the steaming wounds.

"God! Stop … Stop it… Ahhh," Whatever Sam was doing to him, it did nothing but sat his body on fire and no matter how much he begged for it to stop, the fire only increased. It was eating away at his heart, rising to his neck and licking at his face and Jesus, this fucking hurt! Dean heard his brother's voice but couldn't make out any words, he felt one of his hands flying towards his brother and grapping a fistful of his jacket, pulling him close and pushing him away in the same time as another scream tore itself free from inside him, making him wish he could just pass out.

"Dean, God! I'm sorry, I gotcha … I gotcha, man. It's gonna be over soon, I promise." Sam closed his eyes, wishing he could put his hands on his ears and block the sound of Dean's screams. He held his brother as he bucked against him and pled for him to stop, his own tears sliding on his face and sinking into Dean's short hair.

After what felt like years, and what could have been only five minutes, Dean's screams stopped as well as the rising steam from his wounds. Sam breathed in relief and sank down on the bed next to his brother, his legs no longer able to hold him up. He felt Dean sagging against him and somehow Sam ended up half hugging his big brother.

Dean was ready for consciousness to consume him but it looked like consciousness wasn't willing to welcome him just yet. He could feel Sam's long arms wrapping around him as he tried to slow down his labored breathing but he did nothing to push him away, he lacked the strength to even move. Dean wasn't one to allow his emotions to reach the surface but somehow it was getting the best of him at that moment and he couldn't help but wonder—for the billionth time—why Sam hadn't tried to look for him when he went to purgatory when obviously he still cared.

Why didn't Sam miss him the way he did? Why was it so hard for him to live without his brother when it was exactly the opposite for Sam?

Get a fucking grip, Winchester! He scolded himself, he wasn't going to cry.

Despite his effort to not give in to his emotions, a chocked sob forced its way out from him before he could stop it and a second later he felt Sam's arms tighten around him, pressing his back to his brother's chest. Dean couldn't help but sink into his little brother's embrace no matter how weak and vulnerable he looked like. He let his head fall back against Sam's shoulder as a hot tear rolled down his temple.

Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat that was threatening to chock him. He didn't find any words he could say to make the situation better, for Dean or himself; instead, he tightened his hold on his brother even more, using Dean's own way of showing affection. He knew the physical pain wasn't the thing pushing Dean to show this kind of weakness and he cursed himself for the umpteenth time for not searching for his brother when he went missing. He could have spared Dean so much horror; so much pain … or he could at least end up in the same place with him.

He couldn't even imagine how Dean was feeling like, or how he was still trusting him with his life and still finding safety in his closeness.

Dean could almost hear the thoughts in his brother's head for the first time since their reunion and he didn't know if he should feel good or bad about it. Good that maybe he would be able to put his hands on the beginning of the loose string that connected him and his little brother, and bad because he didn't know how to comfort Sam this time.

Sam felt Dean shifting in his arms and knew the moment was over. He didn't want to push on him, and to be honest with himself, he was glad Dean was regaining some control over himself and most important having the strength to do it. Letting go of each other, Sam helped Dean to lie across the bed and got ready to continue his ministration.

Dean lay back and watched Sam work, never taking his eyes off of him as it was somehow grounding him. He hissed every time the needle made it through his skin before the area became almost numb and the feeling became just a soft poke. Sam covered the wound with a clean bandage after applying some antibiotic cream. No one of them said a word during the whole process.

Dean was starting to lose track of everything going around him and Sam seemed to blur in front of him. He almost panicked when he blinked his eyes open and didn't find Sam in front of him. When did he close them? Was it all a dream and Sam wasn't really there as he first expected?

Sam, where are y—there you are! His frantic eyes finally found Sam who was holding a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other and was trying to coax him into swallowing both. Dean couldn't raise his arm and he could tell that Sam figured out that much as he put the glass on the night stand and slipped his hand under his head, raising it gently and slipping the pills into his mouth, telling him it was okay. A second later the glass of water was resting against his lips and he took a sip of water that chased the pills down his throat.

Sam gathered the blanket from the end of the bed and laid it on his brother, tucking it around him gently. One of Dean's arms snaked out from under the blanket and gripped his arm tightly, startling him.

"Why you're doing this?" Dean whispered, his words slurred a bit as he locked his green misty eyes with his brother's puffy hazel's ones.

Sam was surprised by the question, but he would be lying if he said he didn't see it coming. He knew his brother's feeling and thoughts must be in a conflict right now, and Dean doubting Sam's intentions was not far different than expected after everything that happened and considering the pained state his brother was sporting in the meantime.

"Because you're my big brother, Dean." Sam spoke out his thoughts honestly and automatically, hoping it was enough for his brother.

He saw Dean's small nod, either that he decided to settle down with this answer for now or was too tired to argue. Sam covered his own hand over Dean's one that still gripped his arm in a death grip, as if he was afraid that his little brother would disappear once he let him go.

"Go to sleep, Dean. I'm not going anywhere," Sam told Dean, watching him blink heavy eyes at him before he closed them once more and didn't open them again, his grip on Sam's arm slightly loosening.

Sam stayed in his low crouch beside his brother's bed and watched him sleep; wondering how many times Dean did that for him whether when they were kids or adults and grown up. Once he was sure that Dean was asleep and wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, he gently pried his arm from Dean's hand and rested his brother's hand on the bed and stood up.

Sam retrieved his laptop from his bag and sat on his bed, starting to search up what he needed to find once the laptop was connected to the internet. He knew what he saw when he was cleaning Dean's wounds, the black liquid still streamed through his brother's vines and he still could actually see it. He knew there was something that they had missed in this hunt, and he was intended to find out what it was.

- To be continued ...


-Think Sam can find what's wrong with Dean? Is there even something wrong with Dean to begin with? Will Sam be able to save his brother if it came to that? You'll know all the answers for whatever questions going on your head, all you gotta do is Review! :)

Be nice and let me know what you think and if you want more. Thanks for reading!

Aya