Dean sat at the kitchen table thinking about the past hour while Sam lay asleep on the living room couch – bandages covering his chest and bruises darkening the left side of his face. He had hit him. He had been so angry and he had just let loose and hit his baby brother. And Sam had let him. He had not said a word...had not moved a single muscle to protect himself against Deans rage. He had just taken it.
Dean felt sick.
Just when he stood up to pour his opened but otherwise untouched beer down the drain he heard a small noise from the living room. Dean froze and listened. Nothing. Maybe he misheard. No, there it was again! A low murmur coming from the living room.
Slowly Dean made his way to the door and peeked through the crack. Sam was where he left him on the couch but tiny movements of his hands and head indicated him having a nightmare. It was by far not the first time seeing him like this. Usually, Dean would go to him and just wake him up – maybe making some joke about it being time to wake up sleepyhead. But right then Dean was unsure if his presence wouldnt actually make it worse this time.
Before he could decide what to do, Sam became more anguished. He turned his head more rapidly and opened and closed his hands as if grabbing at something.
"Please..."
The murmur was near silent and Dean had to strain to understand it. His eyes widened. He took a few steps closer to the couch but hesitated – still unsure what to do.
"Nno...Dad...m sorry…"
Deans heart skipped a beat.
"Please...don go…"
Dean closed his eyes and a tear ran down his cheek.
"...love you…" Sam cried quietly in his sleep but seemed to calm down after a moment. Dean hoped this was the end of the nightmare and was already turning towards the kitchen when Sam suddenly went rigid.
"Dean."
Dean opened his mouth, ready to explain that he was just checking in on him and to go back to sleep when he noticed Sams eyes. They were still closed. "Sammy?"
"...Dean please...I..." Sam started moving in his sleep again. But not like before. Instead of thrashing around Sam was trembling...violently. It was terrifying. Dean stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He did this. Sam was scared of him. And Dean had given him reason to. He had hurt him. And when he had tried to help, his little brother had flinched away. This was his fault.
His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet cry. "...m sorry."
Deans eyes snapped to his little brother. This was not right. Why was Sam apologizing? Suddenly, Dean flashed back to what he had said just an hour ago: "THIS. IS. YOUR. FAULT!"
Hell no.
With two quick strides Dean reached his little brother.