Dean stared at Sam, who was shrugging off the ropes that had bound his hands. A pile of rope lay at his feet, and his ankles were covered in raw red rope burn. Sam strode forwards and grabbed the gun from Dean's hands, clicking the safety on and then tossing the gun across the room.
"What the hell were you doing?" Sam yelled, smacking Dean in the head. "I can't-"
"You hit me," Dean interrupted, staring at Sam in awe, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Your hand was solid."
"Yeah I hit you," Sam answered, staring at Dean in confusion. "You were being incredibly stupid. What-" His words halted as Dean tentatively reached a trembling hand out to push the hair away from Sam's right temple. Dean's finger rested on the smooth, unbroken skin, his sleeve riding up to reveal his bare wrist.
"Dean, where's your watch?" Sam asked. Dean let out a strangled sob, grabbing the back of his brother's neck and pulling him into a hug so tight Dean's hands touched his arms. Sam stood wrapped in his brother's arms, returning Dean's hug as Dean began to sob. "Dean, what's wrong?" Sam's voice was tender, his face pressed into his brother's shoulder. "I mean, I know I was missing for a few hours, but…"
"Missing? Sammy, I…oh god, I thought you died." Dean pulled back for a second to stare at Sam again, leaving his hands on Sam's shoulders, and Sam couldn't remember ever seeing his brother cry like this.
"Died?" Sam asked in shock, only then noticing the state of the hotel room. "Dean, did you get attacked?" Instantly Sam's concern was for his brother.
"No. I did this myself." Dean looked around the room as if for the first time. "After…I thought…"
"Hey, it's ok," Sam said softly, shaken by the realization that the room was the physical representation of what Dean had been going through. "I'll help you clean it up."
"Ok." Dean took a step and his knees buckled. Sam caught him, frightened by the paleness of Dean's skin.
"Dean, have you eaten anything?" Sam half-dragged Dean over to a bed and sat him down.
"I threw it up," Dean said, his body sagging as he collapsed onto the bed. Sam didn't know what to do, what to say. He had never seen his brother show this much weakness before in his life.
"Ok, I'll go get you some food from across the street." Sam turned to go, but felt a hand grip his arm.
"I…I'd rather you stay here." Dean put his other hand on Sam's arm, anchoring him to the spot.
"Sure, of course, I'll…I'll order something in." Sam reached for the phone with his free arm and called in for pizza. Then he perched on Dean's bed, Dean's hands still clutching to his arm.
"So…what exactly happened, Sammy?" Dean asked, taking a few deep breaths in and out, and Sam was relieved to see a few spots of color return to his cheeks.
"This morning, I went out to get us some breakfast," Sam began, keeping an eye on Dean. "On the way back, I was attacked by someone…a shapeshifter, Dean. He already looked exactly like me. He knocked me out and threw me in the closet."
"And I didn't hear a thing," Dean said angrily, gritting his teeth. "I just let the whole thing happen."
"Dean, you can't blame yourself. You-"
"Sammy, you have no idea!" Dean yelled, sitting up. "What I thought…I…" Still unable to say the words out loud, Dean leaned back against the pillow, eyes closed, a few tears trickling out from the corners.
"Hey, Dean, c'mon, it's…" Sam didn't know how to continue. He had no idea how to take the nightmare memories away from Dean. Instead, he flicked on the television, turning to some daytime television show, hoping to distract Dean.
Suddenly a Special News Broadcast interrupted the show. "We interrupt to bring you news of a hostage situation this morning that ended in tragedy," the reporter said, as the screen filled with the image of Dean clutching a body that looked just like Sam. Silent tears streamed from Sam's eyes at Dean's pain, at the look on Dean's face as he refused to let the body go, the way Dean threw himself over the body and sobbed.
Too into the broadcast to notice Dean was watching, Sam couldn't help but notice as Dean made a sprint for the bathroom. Retching noises echoed off the tiles.
"Dean!" Sam quickly switched the television off, running to the bathroom and falling to his knees next to his brother. "Ssh, Dean, it's ok, I'm right here." He stroked the hair back from Dean's face as Dean gagged into the toilet, his head resting against the cool porcelain.
Sam stood up and grabbed a washcloth from the rack, running cool water on it and placing it on the back of Dean's neck. His other hand rubbed small circles on Dean's back. "I used to do this for you," Dean said as he took a few deep breaths.
"Yeah you did," Sam whispered. His cell phone suddenly rang in the next room, and Sam went to answer it, quickly bringing it back with him to the bathroom. He clicked it open. "Hello?"
"Sammy?" His father's voice echoed out of the phone.