This fantasy hug is for mb64 who felt it was the right spot for more hugging. :)
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A Born-Again Hug.
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Anger coursed through his veins like molten lava, but there was no one that he could take it out on because it was directed solely against himself.
His fisted hands were itching to smash into something, anything, to reduce the tension in his body and if there had been a wall nearby, he would have punched it, accepting the pain as a just punishment for his sins.
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When the call had come through from the clinic, he had been caught completely unawares. Sam had been knocked down by a car and he was in hospital, in the psych ward. Just what the Hell was going on?! He tried to ignore the little voice in his mind that was whispering that he knew exactly what was happening to Sam.
It was the part of him which had gone into denial when his brother had told him about his difficulty in sleeping; that his 'hellucinations' were getting stronger; that Lucifer was ever more omnipresent in his mind.
Dean recalled how in the warehouse a few months earlier, he had exhorted his brother to trust him, to look on him as stone number one. How could he have let this happen, how could he have so blatantly ignored the signs of suffering that were all too clear on his little brother's face and in his half-hearted denials?
He understood why; he just hadn't want to believe that Sam would really get to the point of breaking. He had hidden his head in the sand ostrich style, hoping that if he ignored what Sam was going through it would magically disappear, but it hadn't and now his little brother was in a Mental Institute!
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As soon as he found himself alone in the driver's seat of the car, however, all his anger dissolved into tears, hot bitter tears that dropped unashamedly on to the wheel. He wept for Sam, for himself, for Bobby, for all those who had died because they had the misfortune to encounter the Winchester brothers.
He cried until it seemed that all the liquid in his body had exited via his tear ducts, the bodywork of the car shielding him from the outside world and from what he would soon have to face.
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But the tears had been cathartic and he raised his head in pride, remembering who he was. He lifted his chin in defiance, he was frigging Dean Winchester, Sammy's big brother, hunter extraordinary and he would fix this. It wasn't too late! It couldn't be!
It was his job to look out for Sam; he would make this right but if he couldn't and Sam went down, he swore that this time there would be no soul-selling, no tricks; he would simply follow his baby brother to wherever he ended up.
He wouldn't kill himself, for he didn't want the excuse of suicide to get in the way; no, he'd leave the method of his death to the first monster that came along. He revved up the engine, at peace with himself and aimed it towards his brother.
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He stood outside the door and studied his brother through the glass panel. Sam was lying immobile on the bed and Dean felt something shift in his belly. How a six-foot five man could resemble a five-year old child was unexplainable but that was how Sammy appeared to him.
His little brother looked so lost and hopeless lying there alone and Dean felt all his big brother genes coming preponderantly to the fore. He would fix this, he had to fix it!
Soon he would have Sam back at his side where he belonged or he would die trying!
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They say that hope is the last to go and that was how it felt to Dean as he made his way to Emanuel's house. Perhaps this time the Winchesters would get a break, perhaps God was out there somewhere after all and was feeling charitable today.
His hunter acquaintance Makay had told him that his eye had been cured by a faith-healer. Dean knew that the hunter was a practical man, not given to flights of fancy, so he had every reason to believe him.
Nothing came easy though, he mused as he quickly dispatched the demon that he unexpectedly found at the at the healer's house.
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A noise at the bottom of the steps drew his attention and he glanced down at the person who was standing there.
To Dean it felt as if the only two emotions he could still express were either anger or grief and when he recognised the being staring up at him, anger got the upper hand; a seething, simmering, gelid anger, for standing there was the one who had condemned Sam to die, the one who had coldly and unnecessarily shattered Death's handiwork.
This was Emanuel? This was Sam's last hope? The very one who had caused it all!
He swallowed his anger as the man studied him with no recognition at all in his eyes.
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Dean waited impatiently outside the hospital as Castiel went forward to take out the demons that had gathered there, hoping to have the honour of capturing an angel to bring back to Crowley; not just any angel, but one that had double-crossed the King of Hell. Each of them wanted the reward that had been promised to bring him in, but all these events passed before Dean's eyes like the images on a screen, his mind too occupied with the salvation of his little brother to pay more than a casual attention.
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When by Sam's death-bed, Castiel informed Dean that he could do nothing because Sam's wall had crumbled to dust and there were no bricks left to rebuild it, Dean stared at him in disbelief. "You broke his wall now you gotta fix it," was all that came to his lips. "You said that when it was all over you would mend Sam!"
If angels could cringe, Castiel would have done so under Dean's scrutiny, the Winchester's intense eyes pinning him to his responsibilities, but the angel's face showed no emotion as he pondered the problem.
A sudden flash of insight came to him. "I can't rebuild the wall," he confirmed. "But I can try to absorb Sam's memories of the Cage. It should at least help him to get up and about. I'm sorry, I should never have done this to Sam."
Dean didn't bother answering, he had nothing to say, no wish to engage in conversation with the one who had reduced Sam to near death. He felt emotionless, cold, having already made his decision earlier in the Impala.
If Sam died then he would follow.
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He looked on in silence as the red rivulets of Sam's hellish visions made their way up the angel's arm coming to rest in his eyes, reducing them to two pieces of fiery coal. No words of encouragement passed his lips. His eyes were fixed on the little brother that he had again come so very close to losing.
He watched in relief as the lines of pain that had been etched on his brother's face smoothed themselves out and as Sam turned his eyes towards him, the tiny spark of hope that shone there, made Dean come alive again.
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"Sam," he uttered falteringly, not sure whether to celebrate just yet, while his body propelled itself around the bed towards his prone brother.
"Dean," Sam answered.
Sam could express a thousand different emotions in that one word, and this time he was asking for his big brother, wanting Dean near him; something that Dean was all too willing to do.
"Sammy!"
Although he would never admit to it, he was no different from his little brother as far as expressing emotions through the simple voicing of the word Sam was concerned.
Sammy needed him now and Dean answered his call like a sailor to a siren's.
It was the call of blood, of brotherhood, of the shared danger of a life spent together, of fights and pranks, of abandonment and loss, of everything and nothing, all culminating in this; Dean and Sam; Sam and Dean.
Ash had said they were soul-mates and he remembered how he and Sam had stolen a glance at each other embarrassed, but he had no reason to doubt Ash's words for what he and his brother shared was so powerful that it would outlast Heaven and Hell.
He opened his arms as Sam threw himself into his embrace, pulling him in. He could feel Sam's heart beating furiously, his body still tense with fear, fear that he had been on the brink of death, that he would no longer see Dean.
Sam burrowed into him, his large body somehow fitting seamlessly into Dean's smaller one. They held on to each other, to the only anchor they had in the stormy sea of their lives, oblivious to anyone other than themselves.
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When they walked out of the hospital, Dean felt whole again, the one person in the world that he truly loved was by his side, relatively healthy. He could ask for nothing more.
Two pairs of green eyes met over the roof of the car as they had done many times before, the unspoken sentiments that were transmitted from one to the other as strong and binding as ever.
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XXX The enD XXX
