Chapter 69.

Dean had been quiet for a long time and Sam wasn't sure whether he should speak or not. He decided to risk it. "If there's something you need to talk about, there's nothing you can't say to me... plenty you won't say, nothing you can't."

Dean nodded. "I know."

"What were you gonna ask about Lucifer?"

Dean met his eyes for a second and then looked away. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. My mind is going off in all directions and it's not consulting me about any of them."

"You are your mind." said Sam.

"I hope not, Sammy, because that dude is crazy."

"You've been crazy for years." said Sam, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little. The question Dean would not ask was burning in his eyes and they were both well aware that Dean knew every syllable if what he wanted or needed to say, but would not.

Sam knew the question too, but he hoped Dean didn't know how well he knew it, or how many times he had asked it of himself. Did it feel good, to be the conduit for all that power, to be, for a brief time, one of the most powerful creatures in the universe, to just not be a weak, human, cursed Winchester. Dean needed to ask it and he needed Sam to answer, but which answer he needed to hear and how Sam could give a confident answer when he had never managed to answer it for himself ... well, those things were less clear.

Dean needed an answer, or at least an acknowledgement that having the question in his head did not show he was corrupted. Even if the answer lay somewhere in Sam's mind ... and he was fairly sure it didn't ... how could he answer a question Dean was determined not to ask?

Whatever he said or did, he could not make Dean feel more vulnerable and if Dean for a moment felt judged, he would shut down all communication and consider his self-loathing fully endorsed by Sam. He remembered how it felt, to bear the constant recriminations of his conscience, augmented by the way Lucifer had always made him feel that it had all been his fault, that he had chosen the dark side and given Lucifer power over him. He knew how it felt to be afraid to confide in his brother, the one person whose opinion of him mattered and confess to weakness, collusion and shame.

If he said nothing, he failed his brother. If he said the wrong thing, he could destroy him. He found himself wondering how Dean had always managed to say the right thing when they were kids. Then he wondered whether he always had, or whether Sam remembered only the best of his brother as Dean forgot and forgave so many of his own lapses.

Dean needed him to say something and if it couldn't be perfect, it could at least be brave. Dean was far too vulnerable, deeply afraid and there was nothing Sam could do to reassure him, except maybe to ensure he wasn't vulnerable alone.

"Can I tell you something?" he said.

Big Brother Mode was instantly engaged. "Of course you can." said Dean.

"There were lots of bad things about being ... about having Lucifer around. You know that I hate him, right? That I will always hate him?"

"I know that, Sammy." said Dean.

"I hated everything about him. Everything he said and did just disgusted me. When he ... when he touched me, I recoiled. When he possessed me ... " He choked, unable to go on.

"I know, Sam. I know. You don't have to talk about this."

"There's something you don't know. Sometimes ... and I have never told anyone this, not even Cas or Sarah ... Sometimes, I felt ... I thought ... I felt like ... It almost felt good. It wasn't my fault. Nothing was my fault. Briefly, I had a taste of near infinite power without any responsibility. No decisions to be made, no consequences to endure."

"Sam ... " said Dean and Sam didn't know whether he was appalled or relieved.

"It was never good. I never truly enjoyed it. He wanted me to. They want to make us complicit. They want us to feel like we chose it. Deep down, though, I always feared a part of me liked it."

Dean stared at him and then said, "Sam, you were never anything but good. Lucifer, Ruby, Azazel, they tricked you and they manipulated you and you made mistakes, but you only ever wanted to do good. Whatever you felt or thought you felt, it was their manipulation. You have to keep that firmly in your mind."

Dean meant every word. Even now, wounded as he was, he would fight any of Sam's demons to the death. Sam hoped that some part of his mind was making the connection between Sam's demons and his own.

"I've always wondered if there were some flaw or weakness in me that ... "

"Well, don't!" said Dean, "You start thinking like that, it'll make you crazy. That son of a bitch didn't want you because of some flaw. He wanted to use your strength. Weak, you would have been worthless to him. They twist everything, Sam. Strength is weakness, endurance is complicity, friendship is corruption, fear is submission. They twist it all, until all you have left in your head is some damn angel sickness that makes you hate yourself and your friends and turns every thought in your head sick and wrong."

"How can I fight it?" said Sam, adding silently in his head, "Asking for a friend."

"You tell yourself that nothing from them is real or true. It's all just lies to strengthen their hold. They kill your faith in yourself so you dont try to assert your will. They kill your faith in others so you won't go to them for help. They poison your mind so you stop believing in your ability to think."

"That's some pretty clear thinking right there." said Sam.

"You may not believe this, Sammy, but I'm more screwed up than you are."

"Are you?" said Sam.

"In fact, I need to ask a favour and it will sound pathetic."

"Anything." said Sam.

Dean shook his head. "Hasn't life taught you by now never to write a blank cheque like that?"

"I guess not." said Sam, "Come on. What do you need?"

"I don't think I can face breakfast with people around. If you could just bring me a bag of chips or something at around 6 am, that would be great."

"I can do better than a bag of chips." said Sam.

"Great, but be discreet. I don't want anyone thinking I'm hiding in here."

"Of course."

"Even though that is absolutely what I'm doing. I want you to know that I know that and that I know that you know that and that, even if you didn't know that, I wouldn't want to deceive you ... just them."

"Thanks."

"And I know you probably think ... "

"No. I don't. I don't think there's any shame in sometimes needing a little time alone."

"Hiding."

"No shame in that, either, as long as it doesn't become a way of life." said Sam, impressed by Dean's honesty at such a difficult time.

Dean looked at his hands, resting in his lap. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. "And I also want you to know, I get why you said what you said and I know how hard it was to say it, because I couldn't."

"I thought it may help." said Sam.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Did it?"

"The thought of what that ... "

"Dean, forget me, for a second."

"What are we gonna do? Two angel-wrecked derelicts."

"No. We survived and made it home. We won, Dean."

"You won." said Dean, "I fell a little short of victory. I was just ditched."

"You know I don't believe that." said Sam, "You should get some rest. I could get Cas to ... "

"No! I know it's stupid, but the thought disgusts me. No angel powers around me. If Cas and I are gonna get our friendship back, I need as few reminders as possible that he's one of theirs."

"He hates Michael more than you do." said Sam.

"If he didn't, I wouldn't want our friendship restored." said Dean.