Sam Winchester couldn't remember the last time he prayed
Maybe back when their dad was still alive and Sam watched helplessly as Dean's heart failed in that terrifying moment at the hospital. Or maybe when the hellhound tore into his brother's body and all Sam could do was writhe in his bonds as the life slowly left Dean. But maybe when Dean was lying bruised and bloodied on the bed in the bunker and all Sam wanted to march into heaven and rip Metatron apart with his bare hands if it was the last thing he did.
Or maybe not.
The only thing Sam Winchester knew for certain was that he was definitely praying now. Hoping and praying to anyone who would listen. To keep his brother safe. Safe from Cain, safe from the mark. Anything. Sam would give anything and everything for Dean to get out of that room alive.
It didn't matter to Sam that alive didn't mean the same thing as not evil, but he didn't care. Even if Dean came down those stairs, a demon, a killing machine, Sam wouldn't have cared at all. Because at least he'd be alive. At least that way Dean wouldn't have left Sam all alone in the world. Again.
They'd figure everything out later.
They always did.
But for now all Sam Winchester could do was pray. Pray and wait.
And listen.
Listen to the sounds of thuds and grunts coming from above him. Then the occasional pained noise from Dean. It was taking all of Sam's self control and more to stop himself from barreling up those stairs to help his brother. But he knew, he knew all too well what the consequences of that would be.
So Sam Winchester forced himself to stay right where he was. Away from the stairs. Away from that room. Away from Cain.
Away from Dean.
Dean, who had protected Sam since before he could walk. Dean, who sold his soul for Sam, who died for Sam, who saved Sam too many times to count. Who took the mark to save Sam, to save everyone. Dean, who was so selfless, Sam wanted to scream. Scream because although Dean couldn't see a light at the end of his tunnel, he couldn't seem to realize that he was that light at the end of Sam's.
Dean, who Sam could never save. No matter how hard he tried.
Another shout from above. This one louder.
Three heads swiveled towards the noise. Sam could see Cas slowly edging towards him out of the corner of his eye. Just in case. In case Sam decided to make a break for it. For the stairs. For Cain. For Dean.
The sound of breaking glass.
His way was blocked even before Sam started forward. The look Sam gave Cas would usually have made just about anyone and everyone shrink back in fear. But Cas held his ground. Because this was Dean. And they both knew it. Because if Sam barged in there now, he'd screw everything up. Everything they sacrificed so much for, would be gone.
So Sam Winchester relented. He couldn't- no. Wouldn't think about what was happening to his brother above him. The bruises that would already be forming on his face. All over his body. The blood.
The blood that reminded Sam of a time not so long ago when he cradled his brother's lifeless form in his arms and wept and wept and wept.
Sam turned away from Cas and retched into the corner of the room, dry heaving. Head hung low, his stomach empty, on his knees. Weak. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve slowly and heard Crowley say something but didn't understand it. Didn't process it.
Because at that moment he heard a cry of pain. Dean.
And then the unmistakable sickening sound of blade meeting flesh.
Sam stumbled to his feet and his eyes met Cas's. There was a brief flash of pain between them. Pain and disbelief and longing. Longing for this to be over. For Dean's torture to stop. For things to go back to the way they were. But they both knew that there was no hope in wishing for the impossible.
The door.
It started to move, inching open little by little.
Sam Winchester wasn't a coward. Far from it. But even the brave get scared. So he shut his eyes. Just for a moment. Shut them and breathed. His mind was running and spinning and falling and he tried so very hard not to imagine the worst. That Cain was the one about to step out. Cain with the blade. Without Dean, who's body Sam would find upstairs. Bloody and battered. Lifeless.
No. Sam couldn't do that. Not again. Not after last time. He refused. If Dean died today, then there wasn't going to be a tomorrow for either of them. If Dean died today, then so did Sam.
With that promise in his mind, Sam opened his eyes. And stared.
Dean dean dean dean dean dean dean….
Dean.
Dean, whose face looked like someone used it as a punching bag. Repeatedly.
Dean, whose labored breaths could be heard even from where Sam was standing.
Dean, who started towards the trio with a limp and a flash of agony on his face.
Dean, who looked thoroughly exhausted as he handed the blade to Cas.
Dean, who was alive.
Sam was already lunging to catch his brother as Dean swayed on his feet and collapsed forward into Sam's open arms. Sam pressed himself close to Dean, inhaling his oh so familiar scent. Sam thought he'd never tire of it or its owner. Sam felt like laughing and shouting and crying because Dean was here and safe and alive and he did it. He killed Cain.
Sam kept up a string of reassuring words as he wrapped his arms around a sagging Dean.
"You did it. Dean, you did it."
Dean felt unnaturally small in his arms, something that touched Sam somewhere deep inside. The feeling only intensified as Dean tightened his arms around Sam and buried his head in his brother's shoulder.
"It's ok Dean. You did it. We're going to be ok. I've got you now."
Sam Winchester couldn't remember the last time he prayed
Maybe back when their dad was still alive and Sam watched helplessly as Dean's heart failed in that terrifying moment at the hospital. Or maybe when the hellhound tore into his brother's body and all Sam could do was writhe in his bonds as the life slowly left Dean. But maybe when Dean was lying bruised and bloodied on the bed in the bunker and all Sam wanted to march into heaven and rip Metatron apart with his bare hands if it was the last thing he did.
Or maybe not.
The only thing Sam Winchester knew for certain was that his brother was safe. Safe and breathing and here. Here in his arms.
Dean was alive, and they would both live to see tomorrow.
And that's all that mattered.