Note: Sam takes a moment to digest.
Disclaimer: Supernatural characters and storyline are property of Eric Kripke and associated publishers/licensers.
Staring at the limp form of his brother's body lying flat on the bed Sam's mind ran through everything Dean had told him for the hundredth time. And still it hurt to breathe. It had been two hours since Dean's confession and ten minutes since he had finally calmed down and let the alcohol take affect. Sam left like his chest was being constricted by some unseen force, willing the breath out of him and all Sam could think was this is only a tenth of what Dean is feeling. Realising that sent Sam's mind into crazy. If he could barely deal with what Dean had told him how was Dean going to get over actually living it. Sam's mind helpfully supplied images of finding the impala wrapped around a tree or Dean, lifeless with his colt held loose in his hand, bloody. Roughly shaking his head Sam tried to snap out of it. Dean was not going to do that. Not when he was around to help him.
Slowly, against his will, Sam couldn't help but think about the one thing he had been trying to keep off his mind all night. Sometimes days would go by with you holding me. Sam's heart was pounding a deep, echoing rhythm in his chest. It hammered against his ribs, pumping searing blood to his hands. Suddenly thirsty Sam tore his eyes away from his passed out brother and lumbered into the bathroom, drinking deep from the more than questionable water tap. Sam's rational mind kick started slowly. Dean has always cared about Sam. More than that, he had protected him until his dying breath.
Of course Dean had sought comfort in the one person who ever meant anything to him apart from their Dad. Dean had needed him, in every way imaginable and Sam couldn't find a thing wrong with that, though not for lack of trying. He searched inside himself over and over again expecting to be disturbed by Dean's confession but found he wasn't, couldn't be. Dean had gone to hell and back for him. He had sold his soul to save his life. There was nothing Sam wouldn't give Dean. Certainly not any comfort his face had given him, keeping him sane in hell. If Dean had needed the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands, the smell of his skin...
Sam's breath was laboriously steaming up the bathroom mirror in front of him. His eyes were wide and looked nearly black. His skin felt feverish and flushed. Closing his eyes tight Sam shivered as a phantom touch travelled up his spin. With his head sinking to his chest, Sam couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped him as he dropped to the bathroom floor, his legs no longer strong enough to hold him up. The tiles were icy and felt good against his heated palms.
No, Sam could not find any fault in Dean taking whatever comfort he needed in hell to survive. It didn't mean he couldn't condemn himself for liking it. He had wanted me, needed ME! Sam didn't know why that affected him. He knew how much his brother cared about him and tried to protect him. This was nothing different than that. Dean had protected himself, shielded his soul. Sam knew Dean felt all kinds of guilt over how he had done it but that was Dean. He shouldered everything and never gave himself a break. Looking back at his brother's sleeping form, Sam's heart stuttered inside his chest and his nails pierced the skin of his clenched hands.
Sorry for this taking forever to put this up. I had a little bit of writers block. Also I'm sorry its not longer. Thanks to everyone who has read this and for your reviews. Please stay with me on this people. Ill get there. And always, reviews are like courage! xx