Disclaimer: Someday... who the hell am I kidding?-- no.

A/N: God life sucks. Yeah, on a stress meter from one to ten, I think I'm at an eleven right now. But that's ok-- things'll get better I'm sure. This one shot was one from quite a while ago that was one of my chapters which I posted then deleted. So some of you may remember it. It completes a little thing I was doing... I now have a story with each family members name; story 14 is 'Sammy', story 24 is 'Papa Winchester', story 35 is 'Mary', and now this one is called 'Dean Winchester'. So yeah... I apologize for my lagging in posting... and I hope you read, review and enjoy. (oh right... this is also a request story for the aftermath of the fight with Gordon from season two 'Hunted'.)

Title: Dean Winchester
Genre: Angst.
Summary: After the fight with Gordon, Sam expects Dean to click in to worried big brother mode. What he doesn't expect is to find him broken and distant.

Dean Winchester

Sam stood staring at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was messy and wet from being towel tried after his shower. A large bruise was forming on his left eye, and the cut on his lip bleed slowly down his unshaven chin. A number of other bruises would come in, he knew, but they had yet to show themselves. Sam was sure Dean would point it out as soon as they did. Sam had on a pair of jeans, though his torso was without cover, and he noted a nasty bruise coming on across his stomach. He tried to remember where that one came from, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was from Gordon.

Sam hated to admit it-- he almost lost that fight. It was too close for comfort, and the only thing that kept him fighting was the knowledge of Dean tied up in the other room. Sam knew about the wires that were booby-trapping the door, and he knew it wouldn't be hard to set them off without getting hurt. Though when that went through his mind, his heart squeezed; Dean would think, even if for only twenty seconds, that his little brother was dead. Sam knew there was no worse thought for Dean, and that's what made him fight. That's what made him take over Gordon and win the fight.

Though, he knew, continuing to look at his battered body, not without consequences. After going to Ava's place and finding her fiancé dead, Dean had insisted they leave, and that Sam get some sleep. Adrenaline was wearing off, and by that time Sam was hurting both inside and out pretty badly. Dean, thankfully, looked to be in ok condition, and was oddly quiet towards Sam. When Dean pulled the black Impala into the cruddy motel, he insisted on bringing in all the bags, and told Sam to take a shower.

Now Sam stood in the steamed up bathroom waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn't sure, just waiting. A smile came to his lips as Sam realized that Dean was probably doing the same thing out in the extremely small living area. No doubt with the first aid kit sitting near him, and an anxious look on his face. Sam hated it sometimes-- Dean and his overprotective big brother routine. But it was who Dean was, the man hated seeing Sam get hurt. And after those twenty seconds of hell the elder brother must have went through, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that he was going to lay it on thick as soon as he walked out the bathroom door.

The door was unlocked as either brother always did after a rough fight, and Sam opened it easily; his dirty and blood stained clothes in hand. Almost immediately after opened the door and stepping out, Dean walked by, his face to the ground. He had a handful of clean clothes, and without even looking at Sam shut the bathroom door with a resounded click of the lock.

"Dean?" Sam called out, "Hey Dean, are you ok?"

There was no reply but the sound of the shower turning on, and Sam was left standing stupidly by the door. Over the course of the half hour Dean was inside the shower, Sam's heart beat quickened steadily. The same sentence of 'something's wrong!' kept running through his head, and by the time the sound of the water stopped, the younger brother had fully convinced himself that it was true. Maybe Gordon had hurt him worse than Sam thought.

"Why'd you lock the door Dean…" Sam muttered as he glanced over at the still shut door from his vantage point on the bed.

It took another fifteen minutes before the door opened and Dean stepped out. The older brother glanced at Sam for a long moment before moving over to his bed, and shoving his own dirty clothes away in a bag. He sat wordlessly, his back to Sam.

"Dean…" Sam's voice was quiet and unsure.

"Sammy," Dean managed to choke out.

The next thing that happened proved through and through that they were brothers, as each of them pivoted on the bed, turned to each other and asked at the same time, "Are you ok?"

Sam smirked and looked down at his hands, "You first, man."

Dean ran his hand across his face staring at Sam for another long moment, "I don't know Sammy…"

Sam felt a lurch in his stomach. The look in Dean's eyes was far away, and lost. Sam thought Dean looked gone; his soul ripped apart, and it terrified him to think that his Dean Winchester wasn't going to be there for him anymore.

"Dean please," Sam felt a lump form in his throat, though he wasn't entirely sure why, "…please talk to me."

Dean took a deep breath, and spoke monotone, "When I was sitting in that chair Gordon was telling me things. Talking about you, and how there were others like you. He'd tell me that he- he had to kill you-- talked like he was doing the world a favor. Like he was doing me a favor. The whole time I was just thinking… that he can't be talking about you. It couldn't be you." Dean's breath quivered, "And then we heard you. I knew what he did-- with the trap at the door. And all I could do was wait. I swear to God when I heard the explosions--" Dean stopped, again washing his hand over his face.

"Dean--" Sam started.

"No," Dean shook his head, interrupting, "Let me finish. Gordon went in there with the gun… I guess to-- finish you off? I remember sitting there waiting-- feeling nothing as every fricken memory with your ass in it came back to me. Then I heard you yell 'Put it down now', and seriously man… best words ever."

"You're done?" Sam asked quietly, and at Dean's feeble nod continued, "I didn't mean to scare you Dean, I swear. And I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," Dean still looked more upset than Sam cared to see him.

"Dean please don't do this," Sam found himself begging now, "I'm ok-- I'm not going anywhere. Remember? As long as you're around, nothing bad can happen to me."

"And when I'm not?" Dean looked up, his eyes swimming with tears which refused to fall.

"Dean don't talk like that," Sam furrowed his eyebrows, "Dad didn't die so that we'd just give up-- so that you'd just give up. We just have to keep going. But--" Sam felt a single tear roll it's way down his right cheek, "Dean… I can't keep going unless I know you're there with me…"

Dean stared down at the ground before laughing quietly, "Dude… this is way too after school special for me."

Sam echoed the laugh and took a deep breath in, "Yeah. But seriously Dean--"

Dean looked straight up and nodded, "Alright. Sammy, I'm sorry."

Sam smiled, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Gordy wasn't quite the physical type with me," Dean got up and sat down beside Sam, "You, on the other hand."

"I'll be alright," Sam shrugged.

"Not getting away that easily Sammy," Dean turned Sam's face towards him and he looked critically at the bruises and cuts, "You look like crap."

Dean got off the bed and took two large steps to his bag, grabbing the familiar first aid kit. Big brother mode clicked into overdrive as he then went to the small bar fridge and took out a bottle of water, and snatched the aspirin off the end table.

"Here," Dean popped the cap off, took out two pills and handed them to Sam along with the water, "Take these. They'll help you sleep better tonight."

Sam gratefully accepted the pills and water and said softly, "Thank you Dean."

"Shut-up Sam before I miss," Dean smirked taking out an alcohol swab and slowly started to clean a cut on Sam's face.

Sam smiled, and looked at Dean's face. His eyes shone brightly, and full of determined life again. The familiar lump returned to Sam's throat, though this time he knew why. Dean Winchester was back.

The End.