Whispers of Brotherhood

The Winchester's drove in silence towards their motel, but that didn't keep Dean from sneaking glances at Sam. Sweat was pooling at Sam's collar and his face was unnaturally white, but his eyes stayed stubbornly open, and he was keeping as much pressure as possible on his injured wrists. Dean was glad the motel was only a few minutes away from the graveyard because he knew that wrist injuries were nothing to screw around with. He would rather take his brother to a hospital but the last thing they needed was a 72-hour psych hold.

Dean frowned as he pulled into the motel parking lot and saw a familiar black truck that had once belonged to his father.

"What's Caleb doing here?"

Sam grunted.

"I called him when those bastards were snacking on me. Figured you would need some help with stitching me up when you found me... or you know... if you didn't." Sam said shakily.

"You called him?" Dean asked incredulously.

He knew what that meant, and he knew Sam didn't have time to make a phone call. Sam sighed and glanced over at his brother in shame.

"Dean... lets... let's not do this." Sam begged. He knew what Dean thought of his psychic powers and he didn't have the energy for the argument.

Dean swallowed back the bitterness. Sam's secrets and his lies had placed this nearly impenetrable wall up between the Winchester's and Dean had no idea how to start fixing it. They weren't seeing eye to eye anymore and no matter what he did, Dean felt he couldn't reach his little brother.

"Let's get you fixed up."

Dean exited the car and went around to help his brother who wouldn't be able to open the heavy door without pulling something and causing more bleeding. Then he started jogging as Sam began to try to do just that.

"Stop it you stubborn ass!" Dean yelled.

Sam hissed in pain as he felt the wound in his right wrist shift and disrupt any clotting that had managed to start. He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder and looked up at Dean, his only safety that had ever existed in an unbalanced world. The end went to his neck to feel the thready pulse.

"Damn it Sammy..." Dean whispered.

Sam blinked sluggishly.

"You don't call me that anymore..." Sam whispered.

Dean heard the comment, and he swallowed back the ocean of emotion threatening to assault him. He didn't have time to reply before he felt Caleb's presence over his shoulder.

"Come on Deuce let's get him inside while he is still awake." Caleb said.

"Watch his wrists they're-"

"I know."

Dean felt a surge of jealousy at the connection Sam and Caleb had forged while he had been gone, and he pushed it away just as quickly. He wanted them to be friends, hell he had begged Caleb to take care of his brother but that didn't mean it didn't hurt that they shared some kind of connection that Dean would never have with the kid he had raised. The psychic shit pissed him off, and considering that they were the next Triad, he had never felt less connected to the two men in front of him.

Caleb and Dean held Sam between them as they walked towards the hotel room door. Dean fumbled momentarily with the keys, and they stumbled into the room depositing Sam on the bed farthest from the front door. Dean turned to the small closet to bring out their larger first aid kit. The small one they used more often was still in the car, but he felt like he may need to pull out the big guns for this. He turned back to Caleb and Sam and watched as they had one of their silent conversations and Dean slammed the kit down on the table.

"Could you two not? You're making me feel deaf."

"S'rry De-"Sam muttered.

"Dropping too many syllables there college boy."

"That's the only reason we were doing the mind talking thing Deuce." Caleb said.

"Oh..." Dean answered in embarrassment.

Dean brought the kit over and pulled out a needle and thread and some towels they had lifted from one motel room or another. He went to grab the first arm and peel back the electrical tape they had used to secure the makeshift bandage when Sam pulled back.

"Let Caleb do it." Sam said.

Dean pulled back as if he had been slapped.

"What?"

Sam blinked sluggishly.

"Don't touch it..." Sam said.

Dean stared at his brother and then down at his own hands. Flashes of Hell made their way through his eyes, and he thought of all the evil things they had done. Sam didn't trust him and Dean responded in the only way he knew how. He lashed out in anger.

"Why did you two want me back? You clearly don't want me crashing the fucking party."

Dean tried to stand, and Caleb pushed him back down to the chair he had been occupying by his brother's bedside.

"Deuce-"

"Let me go!" Dean yelled pushing his friend away. He began to bolt towards the door when Sam's voice stopped him.

"De... don't"..."

Dean closed his eyes and released his hold on the doorknob. He had never been able to walk away from Sam. He felt Caleb's presence behind him.

"Listen Deuce, Sam needs to be stitched up, so I am gonna cut through the Winchester stubbornness. Sam is scared of you touching his blood, this is not about him not wanting your help. He just thinks he can't infect me. Sam? Stop being a fucking moron. Deuce has had both of our blood on his hands more than once, you aren't going to pass it on. Dean is better at these kinds of stitches, so he is going to stitch you up while I play scrub nurse."

Dean knew there was more to this then what was just said, but for now he had heard enough. He needed to look after his brother. He sat back down and reached out again. Sam did not pull away this time, and the older Winchester chose not to comment on the single tear that rolled down Sam's face.

Dean lifted the first bandage and grimaced, the cuts looked worse under the motel room lights. He reached for the Lidocaine in the kit and loaded the syringe. He made quick work of numbing up the area before slapping a fresh piece of gauze over the wound that was still bleeding sluggishly.

"Can you thread that needle, Damien? Then when I am nearly done this arm, numb up the other so we can get it stitched as quick as possible."

"You got it Doc."

Dean made quick work of disinfecting the wound while Caleb got the sutures ready. He was focused on the work but occasionally, he would glance up at Sam to see if he was still awake. Sam's glazed eyes were always on his face, full of trust in his brother. Sam hadn't looked at him like that in a long time and Dean wondered what made tonight so different.

He took the suture needle and began to stitch, by the time he moved onto the other arm Sam was fast asleep. Caleb checked Sam's pulse and when he was satisfied that the Scholar-elect was not on the verge of death he turned his attention to Dean.

"He took off on me shortly after you died, went on a nasty drinking binge. Got himself shot. I had to drag him to Mac to get fixed up. I nearly killed him myself when he told me he tried to trade his soul for yours..."

Dean grunted.

"Yeah... Sam gave me the run down about his stupidity... and Ruby,"

"No, this was before Ruby. I'm talking at the very beginning. I found him drunk, rambling about what Azazel did to him, about Cold Oak, about how everyone close to him dies. He was in a bad place."

Dean looked up at the Knight-Elect as he finished taping down the last bandage.

"Why are you telling me this Damien?"

Caleb looked at the sleeping Winchester, praying for some courage to help Dean understand.

"I tried my best Deuce, I really did. We all did. But I am a shit replacement. I'm not saying that going to Ruby was a good idea, hell I hate the idea of it. But in his head? I really think he did it all for you."

"Yeah... and if it had of killed him? What then? How would that have been worth it?"

Caleb looked up at Dean.

"I don't think he cared. If it got you back, I honestly think he was ready to die, and I wasn't enough to keep him here. He thinks he is going to Hell anyway, he just wanted to get you back before he went off into the flames."

Dean grimaced. He thought he knew how deep Sam's insecurities ran, he understood now that Sam had always felt different even before he knew about the psychic powers and the demon blood. He had just never realized that Sam truly thought he deserved Hell.

"Do you remember when Sam was a teenager? All those bad dreams he had? When he started hurting himself trying to get clean? I had no idea how to help him then because I had no idea what was going on with him."

"Yeah kid I remember."

"I didn't know how to help him then. I don't know how to help him now. He is keeping all these secrets and he isn't the same anymore."

Caleb leaned back and sighed.

"I don't think any of us are. Since your Dad and Jim... we've been on shaky ground and then you went and died on us and we couldn't figure out how to recover. But I don't think he is that much different under the tough guy exterior. He may not need you to solve all his problems anymore, but he still needs you Dean. And to be clear, you aren't crashing our party. Believe me, Sam and I nearly gave up on The Brotherhood if it meant finding you."

Dean twisted the silver ring on his hand and looked down at Sam's. It had taken him a long time to put it on. To Dean it had been a sign of a better future, and he had often wondered if Sam saw himself as a part of it.

"Do you both still want to be a part of The Brotherhood? The Triad?"

"As long as it's with you, Hell yes."

"Then we are going to have to trust each other."

"We trust you Deuce. Do you trust us?"

Dean swallowed and looked at his brother.

"I'm working on it."

Sam groaned and turned his head towards his brother.

"Dean?"

"Right here Sammy."

"Am I gonna make it?"

Dean snorted.

"You are going to be fine. No heavy lifting for a few days. Just gotta take a look at your side. What did they poke you with?"

"Scalpel... before they tried to make me look like a mental case."

Dean should tell a joke about how Sam had always been a mental case but given Caleb's story about Sam's downward spiral he couldn't force himself to say it.

He sliced up the side of Sam's shirt to inspect the damage. It was superficial at most, but Dean's eyes were drawn to the puckered scar nearby. This would be the gunshot wound Caleb had told him about. Another part of the story that Sam had never bothered to tell him.

"Hey Damien, can you do me a favour?"

"Whatever you need."

"Can you go to the graveyard and bring back a body for me? There will be two identical ones, we need to salt and burn the one hidden in the back of the mausoleum, behind the sarcophagus of Richard Chandler."

"Uhhh... yeah I guess. Why that one?"

"Adam Milligan. Son of John Winchester. I'll tell you all about it later."

Caleb was silent for a few minutes, before standing up and grabbing the keys to the Impala. He was going to need the trunk space.

"Yeah... we are talking later. I'll be back."

Caleb made his exit leaving the Winchester's alone. Sam's eyes were on Dean and for the first time in a long time, Dean felt his insides thaw.

"How you feeling little brother?"

Sam groaned.

"I hate lidocaine, can't feel anything."

Dean laughed.

"Thats kind of the point. Get some sleep."

Dean made a move to stand.

"Dean wait-"

Dean sat back down and waited for Sam to gather his thoughts.

"I'm sorry-"

"For what?"

Sam sighed.

"I was jealous of Adam. I was jealous that Dad took him to baseball games and showed up for his birthday. I was jealous of his normal life. But more then anything... I was mad for you."

Dean frowned.

"Why?"

"Dad should've been there to do those things for you."

Dean sighed. He had long understood John Winchester's shortcomings, but he wasn't ready for this conversation. Still he would bend a lot for Sammy.

"Yeah well, he wasn't there for you either, but we turned out alright."

"I didn't need him. You did those things for me."

Dean looked into Sam's eyes and saw his little brother looking back at him. The same stubborn kid who had pushed Dean's buttons and fought for what he believed in. Nothing like the stranger who he had been over the past few months.

Dean shrugged and said the only thing he had always known to be true.

"You're my brother."

Sam smiled.

"I took it for granted... when I left for Stanford. That the road would always stay the same... that if I chose to come back you would all still be here doing the exact same thing. Call it immaturity, but I forgot somewhere along the way how much you had given up to be there for me. Adam may have gotten the normal life but I feel bad that the kid missed out on you. I was the lucky one."

Dean couldn't find the right thing to say so he simply patted Sam on the shoulder.

"Listen.. I don't... I don't care about the blood alright? The psychic stuff scares the crap out of me, but I don't want to have anymore conversations about you tainting me. Stop trying to stop me from taking care of you. It's one of the few things I know how to do."

Sam glanced away from Dean at the mention of the blood but nodded.

"And I am not going to ask about what you went through when I was gone. You can tell me when you're ready, but no more suicide missions. You did a shit job of digging out that bullet."

Sam laughed softly.

"Okay Dean."

"Go to sleep Sammy... I will be here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere."

As in years past Sam blinked a few times before falling off to sleep, trusting in his brother's words.

Later, before the Winchesters went to go burn Adam's body Sam went into the bathroom with his duffle. He paused momentarily to look into the mirror. He felt more like himself than he had in a long time, but he couldn't be this Sam Winchester right now. He reached into his duffle, into the secret pocket he had sewed in months ago and took out a silver flask. He was beginning to shake, and it wasn't from blood loss... at least not in any normal way. He unscrewed the cap and tipped it back into his mouth grimacing at the taste of the thick substance. He felt the world slide slightly into focus and he went out to join his brother.

As the two brothers stood by the fire, Dean could see the change in Sam from earlier. He wasn't sure what to make of it... of what Sam became in his absence. He was scared of what the future held, but for now he held on to the Sam that had looked at him like he was a superhero. His little brother was in there somewhere and he would find him. He just had to hold on.