Warnings: Language, angst, and more bro mos.

It's ok to feel lost
It just means you're alive.
I tell myself a thousand times
From the ashes we will rise.

Senses Fail – The Fire

Chapter 10

It feels like time's frozen when he steps into the bathroom. The razor is still in Sam's hand, hanging from his fingertips, buzzing away. Sam's slouched on the edge of the bathtub wearing nothing but soaking wet boxers. Water is still dripping off his skin, making puddles on the floor as Sam shivers. That isn't what really has Dean frozen in the doorway, though. It's the scattered piles of dark brown hair on the floor, sticking to the wet tiles. It's the uneven buzz cut that his brother has given himself.

Dean swallows, feeling his heart race in his chest and his eyes burn. Sam's never cut his hair. It was the one fight that Sam always won with their dad. He'd allow it to be trimmed but the only way he'd let it be buzzed off was if you took his head with it. Sam's hair has always been long and seeing it now, all patchy and a stark symbol of Sam's desolation, Dean feels like crying.

He walks forward slowly, stopping when he's in front of Sam and the bathtub. He reaches over to the nearest towel rack and pulls a mint green towel from the top of the stack. He drapes the itchy terrycloth over Sam's shoulders. Sam doesn't even flinch. Slowly, Dean lowers himself into a crouch in front of Sam. He glances at the electric razor in Sam's hand then back to Sam's face, trying to get a glimpse of what's going on in Sam's head. His little brother's expression is disturbingly blank. Dean reaches up, still moving slow and easy, and takes the buzzing razor from Sam's giant hands. Sam gives it up without a fight and Dean switches it off. The bathroom is immediately plunged into a heavy silence; Dan can feel the thickness of it in his chest. He stares at Sam for a moment longer before shifting his weight, and sits fully on the floor. Cold water soaks into his jeans and his boots slip on the remains of Sam's hair.

He doesn't know how long they sit like that, with Sam shivering on the edge of the bathtub and Dean tucked between the sink and the tub, just waiting. His jeans are growing increasingly wet and cold, but he doesn't move an inch. He just waits for Sam to talk, for him to be ready. He knows from experience that when it comes to hell, it doesn't help if someone pokes and prods, that just makes it worse. When it comes to hell, you need to talk on your own terms. Patience is not one of Dean's virtues, especially when it comes to Sam and Sam being hurt, but this, this he's willing to wait for.

Sam doesn't let him down.

"I couldn't get the smell out," Sam says, his voice going straight to the floor, "I tried showering, but it just wouldn't come off. It's gone now."

Dean nods. He remembers those first few weeks back from hell. The mind plays tricks. It makes you think that too-hot motel rooms are cages made of bone and flesh, and that dark corners are hiding something sinister. You believe that at any moment you're going to wake up and be right back under the hands of your tormentors. The first few days are the worst. Your senses are all messed up and everything's a trigger; it took everything Dean had not to curl up and hide somewhere when hell hit him full tilt when he returned.

"You, uh…you want to talk about it?" Dean asks, watching as Sam's shoulder tense and then vibrate as he relaxes them. Then he hesitates before shrugging.

Dean nods again. He gets that too, more than anyone. And now he also gets why it pissed Sam off so much when he refused to talk about hell. Dean's never felt more helpless or frustrated. He knows that if Sam will let him, he can help him through this. He also knows there's no way to force the issue. Not this time.

"You remember that Chuck Norris movie we watched when we were kids? The one that's like the Karate Kid only really lame?" Sam asks. He's still not looking up, still keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the ground as he lethargically asks the question.

"Yeah," Dean replies, wondering where Sam's going with this.

"Remember that dream the kid has? Where he's chained down to that table and the guy's pulling the chains tighter and tighter, just crushing his chest?"

Oh. That's where he's going with this.

"Sam…"

"That's what it's like, being in hell. Strapped to this dirty wooden table and it's hotter than…" Sam stops to laugh shortly, hysterically, "It's hotter than hell. And you've got this, this psycho monologuing to you all the time, and it hurts, and you just want it to stop. But it doesn't. And you can't make it stop unless…"

Dean swallows, staring at Sam with wide eyes. He doesn't know what to say; he doesn't even think there really is anything to say. He knows what it feels like to be that helpless, to have all of your pride, dignity, and humanity stripped away. It's degrading and it's agonizing. There really are no words.

"God, I'm so sorry, Dean."

That was something Dean wasn't expecting.

"For what?"

"Everything," Sam says and shakes his head. The action looks weird without his hair moving in his eyes or getting even more messed up. Dean feels a sharp pang at the absence of the brown strands.

"Yeah," Dean finally says, "I know."

"No, you don't." The certainty and passion behind the steady statement catches Dean off guard, and he realizes, he really doesn't know what's going on with Sam right now. If he's being honest with himself, he hasn't known what's been going on with Sam for a long time now.

"I know what you're doing," Sam continues with a small, rueful smile. It disappears quickly but not before it spurs a deep seed of dread to settle in Dean's gut.

"What am I doing?"

"I know you're still mad at me. Furious, probably. Me dying didn't change that," Sam says, "Did it?" That smile is back on his face, the twisted, not-really-there smile that makes Dean want to kill Tim all over again.

"I don't know, Sammy." And he doesn't know. Right now? No, he's not mad. He's scared and worried and he can still feel the need to rip Tim limb from limb humming under his skin. He wonders if the need to get revenge for Sam's murder – even though Sam's alive now –will ever fade. He doesn't think something like that ever fades. Before he found out that Sam was dead, he was still pissed. Zachariah opened his eyes and made him see that he made the wrong choice, but he still felt deeply betrayed by his brother's choices. Hurt. But now…now he doesn't know if any of it matters. It's a mental wound that will probably never heal right; the knowledge that Sam was so far gone in grief and revenge that he chose a demon over his brother, but maybe now, it doesn't matter.

"When I was down there, Nix kept telling me that if I said yes, I'd come back here and you wouldn't be mad anymore. You'd be so happy that I was alive that you wouldn't even care about everything I did," Sam locks his gaze on to Dean's for the first time since Dean entered the bathroom, "He was right, wasn't he?"

Dean doesn't know what to say. He could deny it and he probably should, but Sam's smarter than that. But if he says that Nix was right about this, will Sam believe that Nix was right about whatever else he happened to say to Sam?

"I'm sure he said that you deserved to be there too, right?" Dean demands tightly, "Does that mean he was right about that?"

Sam looks away and Dean narrows his eyes in warning, "You didn't – hey, look at me."

Dean waits until Sam turns his attention back to his big brother, "Whatever Tim told you, whatever Nix told you, they were wrong. No one on earth is going to be more pissed at you over this than me, and I'm telling you, you didn't deserve what happened."

Sam looks down but nods briefly. Dean can tell that he's not fully convinced but that will probably only come with time. Dean sees a particularly strong shiver run through Sam and it spurs him into action.

"C'mon, Sasquatch. How about you get dressed before you turn into a Yeti," Dean says as he stands, brushing off Sam's hair that has stuck to his wet jeans, "We'll fix your hair tomorrow."

Sam sits there for a moment longer before standing too, and he curls the towel on his shoulders closer to his neck, "Sasquatch and Yeti are the same thing."

Dean scoffs, "No they're not. Everyone knows that Yeti lives in the snow and Sasquatch lives in the woods."

"They're the same species, just in different locations."

"Whatever, Encyclopedia Weird, just get dressed."