Of all the things Sam had gone through, maybe this was the worst. He had become so reduced that he couldn't even take a fucking bath alone and his own callous brother was just laughing about it like it wasn't humiliating.

He couldn't even hold his own head up to wash it properly but hey at least he could amuse Dean.

Everything Sam was, his very basic agency, was getting destroyed by his own body's lack of faculty and Dean was just treating it like it only served as comedy fodder.

And Sam had no recourse on this. Dean was the only caretaker Sam had.

Didn't Dean get it? Didn't he understand how this experience was cutting Sam down on a deeper level than just physical incapacity? Didn't he get that without the strength and ability he'd grown up developing, Sam felt worthless?

And yeah Sam knew this was part of the trials. That, in the end if they get completed, it'd all be worth it. But that was a big 'if.'

Kevin might come back and give them the third trial and Sam might not even be able to complete it. What if the trials were meant to be completed one after the other quickly so as not to allow the human body to deteriorate like his was now? What if they were too late already and none of this gets better?

Sam would die weak and frail and a failure in his big brother's memory-foamed bed in this subterranean bunker lair no one knew existed, staring into Dean's eyes and communicating silently the truth and acknowledgement that these infirmities and his subsequent death had all been for fucking nothing.

Sam gulped and swallowed, leaning forward in the wheelchair to hide from Dean's scrutiny and getting his emotions in check without much success. Fear, insecurity, desperation, and furious resentment that his brother wasn't taking this seriously all overwhelming his senses and pitching him overboard with no lifeline.

These trials were breaking him.

Dean was just laughing about it.

Sam cut off the sound of a sob but his body jerked with it. It was subtle but Dean caught it and the next thing he knew Sam felt his brother's arm wrap around his back. Sam refused to meet his brother's eyes.

"Sammy..." Dean whispered sympathetically, rubbing up and down. His tone made it clear he still thought Sam was being unreasonable. It was just a more serious extension of why he'd been laughing at Sam in the first place.

Sam took a deep shaky breath, fresh tears dripping off his face. At the sight of it, Dean huffed loudly, stopped rubbing his back to instead grip him tighter. He softly tugged Sam towards him and while Sam kept his head ducked, he felt something break inside as he caved against Dean.

Sam gave up all pretense and slumped into his brother, letting Dean envelop him in his arms.

"It's... just..." Sam choked. Dean hugged Sam tighter.

"I know, Sammy. All right... I know, little brother, it's okay," Dean soothed, his voice calm and consoling. Sam finally let go and reached for Dean, his body sagging against his big brother, shaking with grief and worry and fear that he wasn't going to be able to deliver on anything when the time came.

Dean angled more towards Sam and let the kid cry, holding him steady. "You're gonna be okay, Sammy. We just gotta take things as they come, all right?"

Sam weakly grasped Dean's sides with his hands, wishing that the wheelchair's railing wasn't digging into his side. This was an awkward hug but when you couldn't get out of a wheelchair on your own and you have a meltdown while your brother's trying to transition you to the toilet seat to eventually give you a friggin bath, concessions get made.

Despite the uncomfortable positioning, Dean held him together and Sam slowly recovered, making sense of the scene before them and the plan laid out in front of him. He repeated to himself this would all be okay, things would all work out, undeniably helped by Dean's continued pledges and promises reinforcing the same message.

There was a brief pause in Dean's gentle reassurances so he could listen and get a gauge on how Sam was doing. Sam was coming back to him, small sniffs and controlled swallows indicating that the worst was over. Dean leaned his head against Sam's.

"I... I could... y'know, knock you out," Dean offered, acting like it was a genuine compromise. He felt Sam chuckle under him and Dean breathed an inward sigh of relief.

"No," Sam croaked, his throat raw from tears, voice muffled against Dean's chest. "Not funny." He began to move away from Dean's embrace but kept his head bowed to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"You sure?" Dean pushed lightly, playfully, and Sam huffed.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice crackly and wet.

"Okay," Dean grinned and pulled Sam against him again. Sam leaned into it, his head still bowed, and felt his brother push his hair off his forehead roughly to compensate for the quick kiss that followed. Sam stared down, felt the affectionate kiss and gave a patient smile as he sniffed and wiped his face more.

"We're gonna get through this, Sam. But it's a team effort, okay?" Dean squeezed his fragile little brother.

"F'it's a team effort why're you laughing at me," Sam challenged, trying to make it sound like banter but failing. It was clear he was hurt by his brother's earlier insensitive humor. Dean sighed.

"I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing with you."

"Did you see me laughing?"

"Well whose fault is that?" Dean shot back. Sam gave a skeptical chortle.

"That's..." Sam swallowed and exhaled without any emotional tremor, "I don't think that's how that works, Dean."

"Well I was trying to get you to not cry," Dean whispered soothingly, his tone apologetic.

Sam wiped his nose and looked up. His face was red, his eyes watery but no longer tearing. "Good job with that," Sam said dully.

Dean snorted. "Yeah thanks," he replied, knowing Sam was regaining full composure. He withdrew from his brother carefully, got up and moved to sit on the tub's rim. Sam remained quiet, waiting for Dean to move things along.

"Listen, Sammy, obviously you don't have to do anything you don't want but... you need to clean up, man..." Dean gestured lamely to his brother. "...and I promise I won't laugh," he added, making Sam twitch a small smile to match rolling eyes.

Sam sighed, shaking his head, still somewhat unwilling so Dean searched his mind for any other compelling argument.

"Look, hey, if the roles were reversed, I'd totally let you get me into a tub if I'd gotten as gross as you are now," Dean lied. Fortunately, he lied well and Sam, bless him, trusted him.

"Yeah right," Sam puffed, rolling his eyes even further.

Okay, so maybe Sam was better at reading Dean than he thought.

"Shut up, I would," Dean pitched but Sam just shook his head tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dean waited until the silence felt oppressive. He tilted his head down.

"Sammy-?" Dean prompted hesitantly.

Sam sighed again and angled his bowed head to look at Dean, then beyond to the half-full tub behind him.

"Fine," Sam murmured.

"What?" Dean's eyes lit up.

"I said... fine." Sam cringed when his brother clapped his hands together, grinning broadly.

"Yes!" Dean pointed at Sam with renewed enthusiasm and moved to get up and into position to transfer his little brother to the toilet seat.

"I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?" Sam said bleakly, his tone devoid of life but Dean just let out spirited chuckles. Sam was amazed how Dean was just moving on, acting like Sam hadn't just had a meltdown in front of him.

"Nope. Do you even remember when I gave you baths as a kid?" Dean asked happily as he picked Sam up with no trouble at all. He turned them around and set Sam down on the seat.

Sam was actually impressed how easy that'd been.

"Not really," Sam lied, unwilling to give his brother the satisfaction.

"You always looked forward to it. Always conked out immediately afterwards."

"Why?"

Dean made the gesture for Sam to lift his arms up. Sam tried to reach up but he only got about waist high before his arms started shaking.

"S'okay." Dean touched his hands lightly, indicating for him to keep them there before he moved over and reached for the bottom of Sam's t-shirt to peel it off from the back.
"You were always tired after bath time because," Dean dragged out, but then stopped talking so he could focus on getting Sam out of his shirt.

When Dean got the neck of his t-shirt over his head, Sam looked up, eyes narrowed.

"What was it?" Sam prompted with a wry smile, anticipating something good.

"You don't remember 'Prison'?"

Sam's brows furrowed and he shook his head. Dean held off on explaining, glancing over to the pile of towels on the counter and getting up to grab one. As he unfolded it, he resumed the story.

"You kept trying to escape from 'prison,'" Dean air-quoted, "during bath time and guess what, in your tiny little peabrain, represented the prison?"

Sam laughed. "Really?"

Dean draped the towel over Sam's lap and murmured "hold on to that" and Sam did.
"Yup. You'd escape like four or five times too 'cause you were so friggin slippery," Dean replied, injecting false frustration into it and successfully amusing Sam further. "Lift," Dean asked lightly and Sam did, letting Dean pull his track pants and boxers off with the towel still covering him. "Anyway so after that you were always pretty tired," Dean finished the memory, landing his palms on Sam's bare knees. Grinning, he looked up at his little brother. "Lucky for me you're too fucked up to play Prison right now, huh?"
Sam gave Dean a withering look, unimpressed. Dean chuckled good-naturedly. Sam sighed and bit his lip, looking over at the tub.

"How's the water?"

Dean took a deep breath and exhaled, leaning over to push his hand in and sweep waves across the surface. The warm water lapped innocently against the sparkling white porcelain.

"Really nice actually," he offered, starting to think about taking his own bath after he'd finished up with Sam. There was this one time while he'd been on a hunt in St. Cloud, Minnesota. It'd been like twenty below zero and nothing but gray scale light; dreary as all hell but oh, what was her name? Lacey or Lane... Elaine! Elaine had invited him up to her apartment and the bathroom setup was stunning. Dean was no slouch when it came to sex but erotic was the most fitting description for that night. They even opened the huge window right above the tub afterwards because-

"Dean?" Sam's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, sinking the indulgent reminiscence like an anvil. Dean glanced up at his brother. Sam's eyebrow was raised high, his expression looking a lot like it did when Sam would say things like 'wow man, not the time.'

"What?" He asked innocently. Sam rolled his eyes and Dean wondered how the hell the kid could read him so well like that. He sighed as he got up, shifting back to the situation at hand.

"Okay so the towel's gonna fall off you at some point while we do this. Don't freak out. Promise I won't look."

Sam let out a light laugh. "Whatever dude," Sam acquiesced, lifting his arms up to let Dean wind his arms around Sam. When Dean had a good hold on him Sam tightened his grip around Dean's shoulders too.

"All right on three. One, two, and," Dean crouched a little lower, glancing back to the tub to make sure he was angled right for this, "three!" He lifted. Sam stayed pretty limp in his arms but Dean had this down to an art form by now. He swiveled around, hearing more than feeling the towel fall to the floor, and felt Sam's legs hitting the rim of the tub as he started to lower him down ass first.

"Y'okay?" Dean asked through gritted teeth. Lowering him down was more difficult than anything he'd done before now. Especially because it occurred to him at some point he'd have to let go and have Sam fall the rest of the way.

"Yeah," Sam grunted and Dean felt Sam's legs scrambling for purchase. Dean had gotten his hands and Sam's back wet with water but they were still too high up for Dean to let go.

"Don't do that- Don't do that- Sam!" Dean ordered urgently, feeling his grasp around his little brother slip. Sam's writhing weight won out and even though Dean had been so close to a perfectly controlled landing, Dean lost his grip and the rest of the kid's body splashed down into the tub.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean yelled, realizing Sam's head was under water. He splashed water all over grabbing him and pulling him back up. Sam sputtered and blinked the water out of his eyes.

"Sam! You okay?! You good!?" Dean demanded roughly.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam coughed, feebly grasping at Dean's arms. "Let's," Sam coughed again, "not do that again."

Dean smiled and looked at the water level, lower now they'd splashed it everywhere.

"Maybe we'll put you in the tub before the water next time," Dean proposed.

"Good plan," Sam quipped comically before breaking into another cough, spurting more water out of his mouth as Dean held him so he wouldn't sink under the surface again.

A/N: Revised 6/29/19. Thank you so much for reading and please comment/review if you can get a minute! xoxo