Before Sam untied him completely he dug into his pocket and pulled out a flask. Opening it he lifted the flask to Deans lips and poured some into his mouth.

Dean felt like he was in shock from everything that was happening, not even thinking against swallowing whatever his brother was offering to him, in fact he looked forward and needed some sort of alcohol to deal with all of this and was only mildly disappointed when all he tasted was water.

Sam nodded, apparently content with whatever the water was, and finally untied Dean completely, reaching out to grasp at his shoulder.

"You okay Dean?" he asked and fuck Dean either didn't remember what his little brothers voice sounded like, and that was a punch in the gut, or it had gotten even deeper over the years.

Dean couldn't bring himself to say a single word or make a single sound, letting Sam grasp his arm and bring him up. His eyes did move however and he realized that his brother was actually taller than him by more than a few inches.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, he couldn't connect the person in front of him with the image he's had of his little brother all these years. Logically he always knew that his brother was going to change and look different but...this different?

He felt his legs shake and Sam reached out to grasp at him a bit better, moving him so that he could sit on a box instead of back onto the chair.

"Alright just...breathe. Keep breathing." Sam told him, sounding a bit uncertain, patting Dean's arm. "Do you...do you need a paper bag?"

Dean thought back to the years of Sam being missing. He thought back to those sleepless nights and how hard their parents were trying to stay strong. He remembered hearing their mom crying and their dad comforting her through his own tears. He remembered being sick out of worry and out of his mind as he hoped for at the very least a phone call to let them know that Sam was alive and alright.

He remembered how many times they'd look to him, to have the simple knowledge that one of their sons was still there. One of their sons was still alive and was just within hands reach. He stayed with them for a while before he moved out from their house into an apartment of his own, he took the teasing from his coworkers, his parents needed to be able to make sure that he was okay.

Thinking back to all of that, remembering the pain and the loss their parents had went through, recalling every single last moment of the last seven years, he then looked at Sam straight in the eyes.

Brought his arm back and punched his brother in the face as hard as he could.

Sam stumbled back but didn't fall to the ground like Dean had kinda hoped he would. He let go of his arm and brought his hand up to gently touch his face.

"Okay." Sam said slowly, straightening up and feeling his face to make sure that everything was in place. "Alright, I deserved that."

"You're damn right you deserved that." Dean said, his hands shaking. Slowly everything inside of him turned to anger and it was coursing through him with a rush that almost scared him.

Dean came forward and grabbed at Sams shirt, pulling him towards him. His brother didn't do anything to stop him, letting him move him as he wanted.

"Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been. Sam." Dean said through gritted teeth. "It's been years. It's been seven years. You've been gone for seven years and now? Now you decide come back?"

"Didn't really decide to, you were being held hostage." Sam said, his eyes going over Dean's shoulder.

Dean did the same, stopping when he saw the body of the man that had grabbed him on the ground, a small circle of blood growing under him.

"Did...you killed him." Dean said, his hand sliding off of Sams shirt. "You killed him."

"He was holding you hostage." Sam repeated. "If I hadn't killed him he was going to kill me. That was the whole point."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked, starting to reach his limitation faster and faster. "Sam what the hell is going on?"

Sam took a deep breath, going to sit down on the warehouse boxes, rubbing at his face where Dean had punched him. "It's a long story." he said, his voice suddenly sounding very tired. He leaned back and let his hand drift over his face.

Dean stared at his brother and then back at the dead body. Despite the fact that the man knocked him out and dragged him out here, he was still a man and his brother had killed him. But on the other hand he had killed him maybe because of the fact that he had tried to hurt Dean.

He was caught between the thin line of complete and utter fear of his brother and pride at the same time. It was screwed up but at the same time he felt just a bit loved.

"Where the hell have you been Sam?" Dean asked quietly, tearing his eyes away from the body.

"All over, I haven't really been staying in one place, except sometimes a place in South Dakota." Sam told him. He looked up and met Deans gaze. "I'm sorry. For all of this."

With that Sam started to talk and tell Dean about something completely and utterly stupid and foolish. A whole exposition of excuses and lies and maybe even hallucinations. Maybe his brother was on drugs and that's why he ran away from home and was now telling him about all these things.

"That man was a demon." Sam continued, looking at the man behind them. "You usually can't tell when someone's possessed by a demon until their eyes turn black."

At that Dean paused, remembering the trick of the lights, that made the man look like he had completely black eyes. He shook his head, it was either a trick of the light or it was drugs. There had to be a logical explanation to this.

"You don't believe me, and I don't blame you, it's a hard thing to understand and I've been living it for the past seven years." Sam said quietly. "Sometimes I don't even believe it. But it's the truth." he took a deep breath. "It's all true and there are monsters out there."

Dean shook his head, closing his eyes and turning away from his brother. "You need help Sam." he told him. "You need a lot of help."

He could hear Sam laugh softly at that and turned back to his brother, feeling just as helpless as he had the night they realized Sam was gone. Sam was looking up at him and despite the growing beard, the long hair, the stress lines and everything else on his face, he looked so much like the little brother Dean knew and loved and missed so much that it felt like someone had just ripped his heart out of his chest, that he hesitated and felt his chest tighten.

All he had wanted for these past seven years was to know that his brother was okay and alive, that he was out there somewhere and was alright. Even if he hated them for some reason that lead him to running away, which he wouldn't really understand because their parents were amazing, he just needed to know that Sam was alright.

And now he had that, to a degree. He knew that Sam was alive and he was okay, but apparently he was so deep in a delusion of monsters being real that he couldn't tell reality from fiction and as a result, he had killed a man.

A man that had been holding him hostage he reminded himself but a man nonetheless.

He didn't know which was better. Not knowing and living in ignorance or knowing and having to deal with it.

"I want to go home." Dean said quietly. "And...mom and dad deserve to know Sam. They deserve to know that you're alright."

Sam hesitated at that, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't think they want to see me." he said quietly.

"Yeah they do." Dean said roughly. "And I swear to god Sam if you don't come with me and let them know you're okay."

"You'll punch me again?" Sam asked, a small smile on his face. But he stood up and nodded. "Alright, lets go."

Dean nodded and looked around the warehouse, eyes lingering on the dead body for a moment before he spotted the door and walked towards it, making sure that his brother was following him.

I do not own Supernatural.

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