Hey guys! So here's the next chapter. The next chapter will kind of be like an extension of this in a way. I didn't address all the emotions present in this chapter, but rest assured, I'm not leaving the Dean-explosion we know is coming out!

Warnings: Bullying, self-harm, swearing
Disclaimer: See chap 1
Beta: Little Miss Artist
Word Count: 2,100
Chapter: 18/21
Next Update: Sunday (Yup, a day later than usual, I got a busy weekend coming!)

Textus

Chapter 18: Mending the Bridge

He could hear them coming. In fact, someone four states over could probably hear them they were being so loud. But then again, Dean was never one to let his presence in a room go unnoticed.

"Shouldn't we-"

"No, Dean, later. Now we just need to get him out," John said in a clipped tone. Sam could tell they were right outside the door now.

Sure enough the hospital room door swung open a few seconds later, exactly as expected.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said brightly as he walked in.

But Sam could see through the façade easily. There was no doubt in Sam's mind that Dean was feeling less than happy. Dean had to be at least disturbed to find out that his little brother was self-harming. In fact, it was most likely beyond anything Dean had suspected might be going on with his little brother.

"Ready to bust out of here?" Dean asked dramatically like they were planning a prison break. Sam only managed a small nod while his eyes strayed to John who was still standing silently by the door with a confused look on his face.

"The doctor's off trying to get a hold of a therapist," John said quietly.

Sam swung his knees over the side of the bed and took a moment to make the room stop spinning. Dean's hand appeared on his shoulder, a steady rock to lean on. Since they were still wearing the clothes in which they had been brought in, it was fairly simple to get out. Sam and Dean just kept their heads down, lest any of the doctors recognize them and know they weren't supposed to be leaving.

No words were exchanged at all during the car ride letting a tense silence settle in the air. John stared out at the empty road while Sam pretended he couldn't see the glances Dean kept shooting him.

Ever since Sam had seen the dog in front of the car, there was something nagging him in the back of his head but he couldn't place it. But then, staring out at the window it came to him so fast he nearly gasped. Of course! It was the dog! The one from his drawing! It seemed so long since he'd seen the dog, like it was in an entirely different lifetime. But what was the dog doing here? It was way too coincidental…

"Sam," Dean said, drawing Sam's attention out of his musings.

"Yeah?"

"I asked what you wanted for dinner?"

"Oh. Whatever," Sam said quietly. Now that they knew, there was no reason was to keep up a happy pretense. Sam wanted to draw his knees up to his chest and sink into the seat, but he kept his feet firmly on the ground.

"Sammy…" Dean said, clearly picking up on the desolate tone.

"I'm fine, Dean." He wasn't. And they both knew it. Sam wanted to break down and cry. His carefully constructed web of lies was crashing down.

No one said anything else the entire car ride. And even then the only words spoken were by John telling them both to get some rest before dinner, after all they both did have concussions.

While Sam laid in bed, a wave of loneliness washed over him. What would happen to him? Would they not want? Would they see the burden he was? Now that they finally knew he was so worried about their reactions that it was a physical pain.

It was really more out of instinct then anything, but Sam found himself stumbling into Dean's room during the early hours of the morning. Dean was fast asleep and Sam envied his nightmare free rest.

Sam stood a few feet away from the bed, tears sliding down his cheeks, and he felt emotion well up in him. It broke forth from his lips in the form of a small cry. Ears trained from years of big brother-ing picked it up even in sleep and Dean blearily opened his eyes.

"Sammy?" he asked sleepily. Sam made no move to leave or go closer, just stood there like a crying statue. Dean swung his legs over and sat up while rubbing his eyes like a little kid. "What's wrong, little bro?" Dean stuck a hand out and Sam found his feet bringing him forward. They didn't stop until he was sitting on the bed besides Dean, wrapped tightly in caring arms with his head to Dean's chest. He could feel the cold of the amulet against his cheek.

"Sam-"

"I know you know, Dean, don't pretend you don't," Sam choked out.

"What I don't know is why, Sammy, why?" Dean pleaded, sounding almost teary himself.

"It was so hard, too hard," Sam said despondently.

"What was?" Dean asked softly.

"Everything." Sam nestled closer to Dean.

"Okay, ya want to elaborate a bit on that?"

"No." Dean snickered slightly.

"Sam," he said in all seriousness, "this is some pretty heavy stuff. I mean, self-harm?" Sam said nothing just remained leaning on Dean, smelling old leather and aftershave with every inhale.

"Why? Sam, why? You owe me that much."

Dean was right, of course. Sam did owe him that much. After everything, after weeks of giving him the run around and hours of lying to him, Sam owed him the truth. Dean had been the one constant in Sam's life and he deserved Sam's honesty.

"The fighting…we were fighting all the time…you and me, me and dad, everyone…and…and there's this…kid…at school…" Sam hoped to God that Dean understood because Sam couldn't say the word bullying…he just couldn't. It sounded so childish…and most certainly not something a Winchester would say.

Sam felt Dean stiffen against him, could visualize the way his eyes would narrow as he figured out what Sam wasn't saying.

After a few moments of tense silence, Dean finally said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sam mumbled something inaudibly as he pressed himself further into Dean's chest, suddenly wanting anything but to tell the truth.

"How about you repeat that so someone besides my shirt can hear?"

"I didn't want to seem weak," Sam whispered fearfully like he was admitting to some great sin.

"What?" Dean asked sharply. Sam immediately assumed Dean was mad at him for being weak; for ruining the Winchester name.

"It doesn't really matter," he said quickly, eyes going slightly wide. Dean brought his hands up from Sam's lower back and braced them on Sam's shoulder, forcing the younger boy back a bit so Dean could see his face.

"It damn well does matter, Sammy! You're not weak, and they don't make you weak. You're strong, damn strong. You kick evil ass and I always know you have my back," Dean said, looking Sam right in the eyes.

Sam gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, nod. Dean offered him a small smile in return. Suddenly Dean shifted back so he was leaning against the head board with Sam now more on the bed with his head still on Dean's chest.

"So why don't you tell me what really happened, start to finish, no half-truths either." Sam could hear Dean's heart beating and feel the tiny vibrations as he talked and it lulled him into relaxation.

This was how it should be. No lying, no fighting and certainly no self-harm. Just two brothers.

Sam found himself talking about how lonely it was at school without friends and how Mike had immediately singled him out. He spoke of Dean's taken shoes and Dean began cursing up a storm which was followed by apologies for being 'such a shitty brother'. Sam brushed them off, saying how they were unnecessary and how he hadn't really given Dean much reason to think someone had forced the shoes from Sam.

The next thing Sam talked about was the attack while he was walking home and Dean caught on immediately, remembering the bloody nose. Sam saw the hurt look in Dean's eyes when he realized that Sam had so blatantly lied right to his face about being injured and Sam tried to placate him with softly muttered apologies.

Sam then proceeded on with the bacon fiasco and both brothers had a good laugh when Sam told of his would-be umbrella attack on a cat. Dean was there, with every emotion Sam had felt. Dean would tense when Sam talked of Mike, ruffle Sam's hair when Sam made some small crack at Dean, and curse those who wronged him.

Almost everything wove its way into the tale, playing some role in Sam's spiral. He even mentioned Mr. Newman. There were only two things Sam had intentionally avoided telling Dean. The first one was about seeing the shoes on the lamppost. It was Sam's fault they crashed and he didn't want Dean to be mad at him, not when they were having such a special moment.

The other thing was drawing. Sam still felt the same way he had always felt about keeping his drawing a secret. It was still weak and it was still girly. Besides, it's not like he could draw anymore anyway, so why bring it up?

"So it was this Mike guy that you punched?"

"Yeah," Sam said softly, feeling tired and drained after telling it all.

"Can I ask why you freaked out on me that night?"

"You called me Samantha," Sam murmured, his eyes half closed, content to fall asleep right on Dean.

"So? I call you that all the time? It's like calling you bitch but playing it off your name. You never freaked before."

"Yeah, but that's what he called me," Sam said drowsily.

"Who? Mike?"

"Mmhm, that's why I punched him, he called me Samantha in the hall."

"That's m'boy," Dean said messing up Sam's hair. "Don't ever take any shit from anyone, least of all the likes of them."

There was another silence as Dean absorbed the new information and Sam fell asleep.

"Sam?" Dean asked. If Sam hadn't been laying on Dean and hadn't felt his chest vibrate, he probably would have been too close to sleep to know Dean had spoken.

"Mm?"

"The sit-ups…"

"What?" Sam asked, opening his eyes and tilting his head back so he could see Dean.

"When we were training and we were doing sit-ups and you…it wasn't because you were tired was it? It was because you were hurting wasn't it?" Dean sounded sad.

Sam let his eyes drift back to half mass as he rested his head against Dean's chest again. "Yeah. But I was tired too."

"Why?"

"Nightmares," Sam said with a small shrug.

"Why…why didn't you come to me?"

"Didn't want to wake you, didn't want you to think I was a baby."

"Sam, you can't control nightmares. They just happen."

"I know, but you don't get nightmares. It wasn't even about something supernatural, it was just about stupid Mike," Sam knew he was sounding like a little child, but at that moment he couldn't have cared less.

"Sam, Sometimes taking care of you and looking out for you isn't easy. But it will always be my favorite job, the one I take most seriously and have the most pride in. Because without you, Sammy, I just…I don't know. There wouldn't be anything good in this world without you-"

"Dean-"

"No, Sam, let me finish. If nightmares are part of the deal, then they're part of the deal. You're my bro, I'll take you for you. Besides, when you crawl into bed next to me after a nightmare and I know that I'm the only one whom you trust with your nightmares; that I'm the only one who can make you feel better after one…that is the most amazing feeling ever."

"Really?" Sam asked while tipping his head back so he could see if Dean was lying.

"Absolutely." There wasn't a single trace of a lie on Dean's face and Sam couldn't help but believe him.

"Okay."

Suddenly Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders again and pushed him back. A shred of doubt crossed Sam's mind and he wondered worriedly what Dean was going to do. Had he had enough? Would he send Sam back to his room saying he'd changed his mind?

Faster than Sam would have said it was possible, Dean yanked Sam forward into a bear hug. His strong arms encompassed Sam completely. And after a few minutes Sam felt warm tear drops landing on his head.

The one thing Sam had never factored into the equation was how knowing the whole story, knowing how much Sam had held back, would affect Dean. And now, as Dean silently cried while clinging to Sam like he might disappear if Dean let go, Sam realized. Dean had always known, either by figuring out or being told by Sam, what was wrong with his little brother. He probably felt he had failed Sam, knowing how bad it had gotten. And knowing Dean, he probably blamed himself for not picking up on it earlier, for not forcing it out of Sam.

"I'm sorry," Sam offered brokenly.

"No, I'm sorry."

"I'll forgive if you do?" Sam offered. He knew it would be impossible to completely remove Dean's guilt so he did the next best thing he could think of.

"Agreed."

Another few minutes of silence and Sam was once again on the verge of sleep when Dean dragged him back.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You know what I'm going to ask."

"You're gonna ask me to stop cutting."

"I'm gonna ask you to stop cutting."

"But-"

"No buts, Sammy, please, I-I…"

"Dean, I don't…I don't think I can stop."

TBC…

As much as I love doing review replies, sadly I don't have enough time today. I'll pick back up next chapter as they're quite fun for me! Just know I appreciate them all and am grateful for the amazing response this story has recieved!