Nineteen days after

John reeked of fear and sweat. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he glanced down at his smelly clothes. He had refused taking a shower since he had arrived. The authorities had forced him to take a shower when he first arrived, to get rid of the blood, both his and Sam's blood. The authorities had allowed him to take a shower alone at first, but now he had to do it with other people, which he refused. Sure, there were a few he could take on in a fight in the prison, but some were way buffer and straight up scary.

"You're a coward Sam!" The thought flashed through John's mind. Was he starting to feel gui-

No, no, no. He deserved it, John thought, feeling a bit better about himself.

It was yesterday he arrived to this dump and he hated it from the moment he stepped in. Luckily, for him, he was going to yet another court meeting that afternoon, so he didn't have to stay there for that long until his next outing.

I'm a fucking dog.

A bitch.

"YOU'RE A FUCKING BITCH, SAMMY!" He threw a bottle in his son's direction. It shattered on the wall over his head, shards flew everywhere and some down Sam's shirt. He should have been happy when Sam didn't whine about it, but he just didn't feel pleased, accomplished.

John flinched.

He was a bitch. Didn't stop whining. He thought sternly.

Twenty days after

Dean's voice was raw.

John's lawyer was standing outside the door, leaning up the wall so that he could hear the conversation.

"John." No affection, no feelings other than pure anger.

"Dean," John voiced back in a more uplifting voice than his son's - which wasn't hard.

"Why?" Dean asked, jumping straight to the mind throbbing question. He hadn't liked (which was an understatement) Sam's answer. Most of all, he feared that it was true in the sense that it was what John made Sam believe.

Seventeen days after

"Sam, can I ask you another question?" Dean asked uncertainly. Questions were just pouring out here and there.

"Do I have a choice?" Sam answered flat.

"No," Dean grinned. His smile faded. "Do you know why John did… what he did?"

Sam swallowed. Again with the tears balancing on his eyelids.

"I'm a coward, I'm a bitch, I'm worthless, I'm a nuisance, I'm a burden, I've ruined all your lives, I killed mum - I'm a killer. I'm weak, I can't ever do anything right. I'm basically a demon," Sam answered coldly, staring out the window.

Why won't the saliva slip down? Dean thought, falling to swallow yet again.

"Sam, you know it's not true."

"I know you don't want to believe it, but it is" Sam stated.

"Hey-"

"Some of it is," Sam corrected.

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's childish manner.

"Take your medicine, I don't want to hear that nonsense ever again. Understood?"

Sam looked at his brother with bloodshot eyes.

"Yes, I forgot, that solves everything." Again with the cold manner.

Dean couldn't take it anymore. It was as though his brain couldn't fathom why Sam just couldn't become better, return to his old old self.

"Fuck you," Dean said with unintentional venom in his voice, immediately regretting it. He just couldn't bear Sam being snarky at the moment.

Sam stood up and went to his room. Dean would have stopped him, but it was his turn to be stump.

What have I done?

Twenty days after

John sighed. Why was 'why' such a heavy question?

"Dean, I need to talk to you about another situation-"

"No. No way. Uh-uh," Dean said, using hand movements to emphasize.

"If I answer, will you do me a favour?"

"No way, I don't do favours for sick bastards."

"Sam killed Mary."

"HE WAS AN INFANT! You can't honestly blame a six month old for a fucking fire!"

"Keep your voice down, Dean," John commanded, knowing that his lawyer would eavesdrop. He didn't need him to listen, he needed Dean to listen. He needed to get out. Dean wanted to protest, but knew the bastard was right, for once.

"He nearly gets us killed on hunts," John said calmly.

"No, it's your fault John. You should have done or let him have done better research. You also shouldn't expected that much from a teen. You also should have been a better father and not fucking abuse him."

Seventeen days after

What the hell have I done? Dean repeated to himself.

It took a good minute for Dean to process what he just had spat at Sam. He still couldn't believe it, but now was not a time to punish himself. He needed to talk to Sam, straighten things out.

The stairs seemed longer than usual, but Dean finally made it to the top. He tried the doorknob to their room, but it didn't work.

Great.

"Sam!" He pounded on the door. As suspected, there was no response, but Dean still felt nervous, with the things going on in Sam's head, he couldn't help but worry. He knew that it was bad, he knew that he should be able to trust Sam.

"Sammy!"

Sam heard the yelling. He dug further into his duvet. He knew that the chair he had set up against the door handle wouldn't hold for much longer-

'CRASH'

Sam squeezed his eyes tightly. He heard Dean's footsteps. He heaved his duvet further up, covering his head.

Why is everyone so mad at me? Sam continuously thought wrongfully. He couldn't handle more people being mad at him at the moment.

"Sam," Dean coaxed. Sam opened an eye and looked at his brother.

Why isn't he angry?

"I'm not angry, Sammy."

It was as though Dean could read his thoughts.

Maybe he can, Sam thought. He does everything right, maybe that's the reason. Come on Sam think something inappropriate!

Penis, was sadly the first thing he could think of.

Dean continued to watch him remorsefully and didn't react the slightest to the mention of genital.

He can't read minds, worth a shot though, Sam thought.

Why is Dean looking so sad?

"Actually, I've never been," Dean continued from his earlier statement with not being angry with Sam. Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean nodded and understood why Sam was puzzled. "Annoyed and slightly pissed isn't angry, dude," Dean said.

"Why aren't you? I fuck everything up, I can't even have a normal conversation," Sam said. Dean had been so fragile around him lately, it was driving him mad.

"I'm not angry, and this is going to sound cheesy - just warning you. I'm proud of you."

Sam stared directly into Dean's eyes, something he hadn't been able to do in a while.

They were green, pleasant, hopeful.

"Why?"

"To sustain all you've been through? To have all that shit happen to you, when it wasn't your fault? Dude, you're the strongest person I've ever known, and I know a fair share of strong people. None of them could have gone through what you have and still be alive. Seriously Sam, how can you think you're weak if you've been able to go through hell? You have an envious amount of willpower! And don't tell me you haven't, you didn't cut yourself in there," he pointed towards the bathroom. "Sammy, for fucks sake. I'm proud of you - I'm proud of myself for being your brother. Damn it, Sam, if you weren't here I… I can't even bring myself to think about it," he shuddered. "I love you, man."

Sam felt overwhelmed, but in a good way. He couldn't remember the last time Dean, if he ever had done it went on a rant without quoting something along the way. He also sounded like he actually meant it, which was the best part.

Sam rose from his bed and pulled Dean into a tight hug. He hiccupped. Dean laughed out of joy.

"I love you, too," Sam mumbled and pulled away.

For the first time in a hell of a long time, Dean took a good thorough look at his sibling where it wasn't just his injuries.

"Damn Sam, you're going to be taller than me," Dean said with awe in his voice. He had only just noticed how fast Sam's grow spurt had gone. His younger brother was usually hunched over but now he held a great posture and held a genuine - small but they could fix that - smile.

Dean beamed proudly.

A/N: Thanks for reading and for your reviews, guys! Some of you mentioned John, who honestly I'd almost forgotten about, so thanks for bringing him up! :)

Yay for fluff!