The brothers Winchester are not, and never have been, strangers to anguish, to nightmares that make their waking world of hunting seem tame. And as much as the pair were currently going through hell, it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But while the storm was much easier to weather when it buffeted the both of them, they weren't always bracing for the same gale. Sam's torment had come in waves ever since he'd been given the news that Dean was not long for this world. A week where Sam had been running himself into the ground to find a way to save his brother. A week of desperate phone calls, internet searches, whispered prayers that Sam didn't think Dean overheard, at all hours of the day and night. A week where Dean tried to convince Sam to let him fade away, to let nature take its course, because when push came to shove, Dean had faced far scarier things than his own date with death. But no. Dean's riptide of agony came at the conclusion of Sam's hell week, when he realized just what his brother had done to stave off the Reaper. They were in their dreary, seedy motel room when the truth finally came out, Dean pacing and Sam staring dejectedly at his computer as he realized exactly what he'd done to pay the piper.
"What'd you find out?" Dean asks, though deep in his gut he's afraid he already knows. Sam's small "I'm sorry" confirms it, and Dean's stomach twists, then plummets. For a moment, he had almost let himself believe that he'd cheated death. But men like him don't get second chances, not without blood on their hands. Not without black marks on their souls, marks that can never be washed clean. And the price for this little miracle was a life for a life. An innocent man dead so Dean's already-tarnished soul could keep walking this earth. Dean can feel himself zoning out, trying to dull the roar in his ears to a growl, as Sam explains what he learned, how he's figured out the faith healer's party trick.
There's only one single thought in his head.
"You shouldn't have brought me here, Sam," Dean's voice is rough, low. A condemnation, more of himself than his brother, who did the only thing he could think of to save a life, whose goal was never to take one. He knows Sam won't see it that way, knows that he's only piling some of his own guilt onto the man who's worked tirelessly to spare him. But Dean's spiraling out of control, and doesn't know how to stop.
"Dean, I was just trying to save your life." He almost wishes Sam was defensive, angry, so they could fight about it, hash it out in the only way they know how. But no, Sam is… defeated, looking down to avoid the glare Dean is leveling at him, and Dean just can't deal with it. He's vaguely aware that he raises his voice, as much as he tries to control it, as he reminds Sam that he's alive and well because they've put an innocent man in the ground.
"I didn't know," his brother pleads, puppy dog eyes on full display. And Dean knows, deep down, that he would've done the same for Sam, in a heartbeat, without thinking through the consequences. He knows that Sam couldn't have foreseen this, especially as sleep deprived and malnourished as he surely is at this point. But the realization doesn't do much to stop the riptide of guilt dragging him out to sea. Doesn't stop the frustration working its way through his veins, the overwhelming sense of wrongness. The sense that he's gone against the family mantra in the worst way, that he's betrayed his father and everything he stands for.
"Sam, you should've just let it be. I'm not-" Dean starts again, bitterness on his tongue, in his tone, choking his throat.
"Not what?" Sam challenges. Even as he stands to his full height, the look in his eyes screams scared kid all over again. "Not worth it? Don't you dare. Don't you dare, Dean." He's a cornered animal, baring his teeth to distract from his wounds. It's a tactic Dean knows well. But it's not working for Sam. Dean can see the unshed tears shining in his brother's eyes now, can feel the pinpricks of tears in his own. Dean opens his mouth to speak again, unsure of what he's even going to say. Because he's never felt like he's worth much of anything beyond how many monsters he can banish to the shadows, how many people he can save. But now he's responsible for taking an innocent life just so he can keep breathing, and he can't breathe around the guilt.
Because at his very core, Dean is… useful. He's never thought about much beyond his skills. He knows he's strong, fast, quick with a gun, a smirk, a self-deprecating remark. And ever since that night in Sammy's nursery, he's grown up knowing that he has a purpose. Keep his brother safe, and kill as many things that go bump in the night as he can before one of them takes him out. But eventually some son of a bitch would catch up with him, and all he'd ever hoped was that he'd leave the world a little less monster-infested than he'd entered it. That's always the way Dean knew his future would turn out, and it had never seemed like a tragedy until now, until he saw the look in his brother's eyes in that hospital room a week ago. Until he realized that he wasn't the only Winchester willing to burn the world down to save his brother.
"Dean, I can't do this without you." Sam's voice breaks then, just a little, and Dean is moving before he even thinks. He could probably count on one hand how many times he's given so much as a comforting pat on the shoulder to his little brother since he dragged him away from the life he was building, but there's no hesitation now as he wraps his arm around Sam. "You're all I have. I can't lose you too," Sam manages, choking all but the smallest of sobs and trembling with the effort.
"Hey, Sammy, hey." As intent as Dean is on comforting Sam, he doesn't know what to say. Nothing about their situation is okay, and there's no manual on how to respond when you and your brother accidentally kill a guy to save your life.
"I can't watch you die," Sam whispers, broken. Dean pulls back to grip his brother's shoulders and lock eyes. It's as he takes in Sam's haunted gaze that he realizes just how badly he's been shattered by the last week. The tears swimming in his devastated eyes, the dark circles below them, the pale skin and sharp cheekbones from devoting every waking hour to saving Dean, even to his own detriment. Sam is practically flinching away from him, as though Dean's going to yell or strike him.
"You won't, okay? You won't." Dean pulls him back in, and this time, the hug is for his benefit as much as his brother's. He rubs a comforting hand up and down Sam's back, his heart breaking as his brother chokes back another restrained sob.
"You can hate me if you want, but I don't regret it," Sam murmurs, voice muffled as his face presses into Dean's shoulder. As if he could hate his brother for saving his life – hell, for any damn reason.
Dean scoffs, pulling back once more, withdrawing into his comfort zone of deflecting with humor. "If I didn't hate you when you ate the last of the Frosted Flakes, I don't hate you now, Sammy." Dean's eyes are practically begging Sam to drop it. There's a reason he's avoided "chick flick moments" since he was a teen. He's been dangerously close to breaking, afraid that Sam will say the verbal equivalent of the straw that breaks the camel's back, that if he breaks, he won't be able to put himself back together. He wants to plead with Sammy to drop it, but he doesn't. Because if this is what Sam needs, if they both need to shatter to build themselves back whole, then Dean will face the darkness, the shadows that are scarier than anything they've ever hunted.
Blissfully, Sam lets him off the hook. Mostly. "You don't have to say anything. Just, please know that you're worth saving. Please." Dean bites back the retort on his tongue for once and listens to the conviction that makes his brother's voice waver. Sam's face is so sincere that Dean has to look away, concealing the few wayward tears that manage to stubbornly fall. He nods, head turned away, taking a ragged breath.
No matter what Dean believes in his heart of hearts, he'll do what Winchesters do and bury the guilt to live another day.
Another day of fighting demons for Sammy.