A/N: Spoilers at least through Ep 12.04. Warning - nothing graphic, but sexual assault is briefly mentioned, related to Sam's captivity with the British Men of Letters. I feel like he would have been more affected by his experience than was portrayed in the show. So these are some of my thoughts about it. Brotherly caring - no slash, ever. I own nothing, just enjoying playing in the Supernatural sandbox!
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It took Dean longer than it should have to realize things were not all copasetic with Sam. In his defense, having Mom returned to them had thrown him more than he ever expected. She was the Mom he remembered, and yet not. He had immediate feelings of love and fierce protection, adoration and honor for her, but she was also this stranger in his Mom's skin…it was incredibly tough to navigate. How to act, what to say. Not like you could order a "Guide to Interacting with Your Mom When She's Resurrected 33 Years Later" off Amazon. And then Sammy was always staring at her…no big surprise, but in part Dean chalked up his odd behavior to this surreal experience and went no further.
The first inkling Dean had that something was off was a throwaway comment from Mary as they left breakfast one morning to prepare for a hunt. "Sam doesn't eat much, does he?" she said, almost to the room at large, as she grabbed the leftovers to tuck them in the fridge. Dean paused at that and noted that his brother's plate had actually barely been touched. But again, he had been staring at Mom, so maybe it was still the newness of her return that was affecting him? Nevertheless, he resolved to keep a closer eye on his brother for the next few days.
The hunt went sideways, in large part to Mary's involvement, and the best resolutions were tossed by the wayside. It seemed like everything might rally as the hunt concluded successfully, and then they were thrown a sucker punch as Mom shared she was grieving her babies - even with them standing RIGHT FRIGGIN THERE in front of her - and saying she needed some time, and then leaving.
Leaving. Why does everyone always leave? Dean was lost, spinning, so far sunk in his internal tangled emotions he simply had no bandwidth to spare for Sam. The days passed, and Sam was his usual annoying self (or so it seemed), trying to get Dean to open up and share his feelings. Bugger off man! Sam took the hint, but Dean missed the hurt that Sam quickly masked as he backed off.
It takes the completion of another hunt and some texts with Mary - Mom, till he feels like the ground under his feet isn't constantly shifting. He apologized to Sam for being a jerk, and now that they're in the car heading home, tunes cranked, he glances over to find Sam sitting stiff and silent beside him. He notes the clenched fists, the pulsing at the jawline, and wonders what he missed. He knew Sam had been held prisoner by a crazy cult family and nearly forced to consume poisoned food, but this seemed like a deeper, more visceral reaction than warranted.
"Sam?" he questioned, first quietly but then louder as he received no reaction. "Sammy? Earth to Sam!" he called for the third or fourth time. Sam jolted, blinking like he had been asleep instead of staring out the window, and suddenly scrabbled madly for the door handle. "Whoa, dude, let me pull over first!" Dean navigated as quickly as possible to the side of the road, and Sam was out of the car before it stopped moving, striding across the shoulder to the tall grass lining it, taking in big gulps of air like he had been running a race. Dean was stymied, but quickly clambered out of the vehicle and slowly approached his brother, careful not to startle him. He started to reach for his arm, but Sam flinched violently, then hung his head, ashamed at his reaction.
"Sorry." he mumbled.
"Dude. Are you ok? What's going on? Talk to me."
Sam was silent but not still. He was moving - nervous, frantic movements - which finally coalesced into him walking off down a path that led through the tall grasses towards a copse of trees at the top of a slight hill in the distance. For some reason he couldn't articulate, Dean felt confident Sam wasn't running from him, but rather from whatever was plaguing his mind, so he followed at a slower pace, allowing Sam to try to work the adrenaline and agitation out of his system. Eventually Sam slowed, but still pushed himself to climb the hill to the tree line, where he leaned against the nearest sturdy tree, panting from the exertion and the epinephrine flooding his system. Dean came up close, but not touching, and plopped down with his back to the tree trunk, facing the road and the quiet Impala waiting silently for her boys.
It was late, and they were in the boonies somewhere. There were almost no cars, and no houses that he could see. Propping his arms on his upraised knees, Dean caught his breath, looking out across the expanse then up at the night sky, his eyes caught by the multitude of stars winking down at them. He felt more than saw Sam slide down to sitting next to him, mirroring his stance, but with head down and hair obscuring his face.
They sat in silence for some time, which gave Dean time to think. Now that he was not so focused on his own swirling emotions, he could see that something had changed since they had rescued Sam from the British bitch that had held and tortured him. Sam had pretended - pretty convincingly really- that he was fine, but in hindsight Dean could clearly see he had been significantly quieter than usual...had hovered almost desperate in his need to remain in both Dean's and Mary's immediate vicinity, but without engaging in the chit-chat he usually was so verbose with. He clearly hadn't been eating - an observation that was quite in-your-face clear now that Dean regarded him objectively. There was deep bruising around the eyes so he wasn't sleeping either…it was times like this Dean actually missed sharing a room, because he would like to think he would have seen the signs much sooner if they still had been. He's pretty sure he would have been woken by some of the epic nightmares that Sam clearly had been having but had not mentioned…
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Sam snarked, with no heat behind it. He knew he owed Dean an explanation. It was just…the words…even just thinking about sharing had him turning to the side and heaving, though since his last meal had been probably a day ago there was not much to throw up. A warm hand on his back brought him back to here and now, and when his body was done he leaned back against the tree dejectedly. Dean leaned back too, so now they were shoulder to shoulder, and the warmth of his brother's unwavering, steady presence, and the strength that was offered brought a slight grateful smile to Sam's lips.
"What happened with the British bitch that has you not eating, sleeping, or talking, Sam?" Dean finally questioned quietly. Huh, Sam thought, trust Dean to know it goes clear back to that. How he could know that it wasn't just this last messed-up case, or Mom leaving he had no clue, but Dean was an enigma…one that knew him so completely, that it really shouldn't have been a surprise.
When Sam still said nothing, Dean pushed tentatively. "I know you told me she tortured you using cold water, a torch, carving tools... What did you leave out?" Dean pushed a bit harder against Sam's side as he felt Sam's breathing speed up. He decided to simply wait, knowing Sam would get there. He looked up at the stars again, mentally willing Sam to share his burden, knowing he might not be able to fix it but could at least help carry the load.
Just about the time Dean decided he was wrong, that Sam was not going to crack and the cold had seeped through his pants so thoroughly his butt cheeks were starting to go numb, Sam finally spoke. Quietly, hesitantly at first he began, "When it became obvious I wasn't going to break from physical torture, she decided to mess with my mind. She gave me a hallucinogen that made me see all the people I'd failed to save. Dad. Jo. Bobby…You." Dean flinched minutely at hearing he had featured in Sam's hallucinations. "Even worse, you were all telling me I had failed, that I should kill myself. But a part of me knew that wasn't real, that you would never say that. So I faked cutting my throat, and when she came to check on me I nearly captured her and escaped."
Dean thought about this as Sam paused. Clearly a miserable experience, but nothing either of them hadn't dealt with on some level before (and boy, he so would NOT explore what that truth said about their lives...!). There was something more. Something worse. Prompting Sam to continue he responded, "But you didn't escape."
"No." he returned sadly, "She beat me to the door and barred my escape. At some point I must have passed out from the drug, coupled with exhaustion and pain." And sorrow he thought, but didn't say out loud, remembering his sense of utter loss when he believed Dean to be dead. Somehow he knew Dean would have picked up on that anyway. "Next thing I knew, I was in bed with her, having sex and being pumped for information." Dean sat up abruptly with an exclamation of surprise, both of them immediately feeling the loss of physical connection. He was shocked, and really, really confused. Of all the things he anticipated hearing that was probably the LAST thing Dean expected Sam to say.
"You…she…what?" he sputtered, at a complete loss. He knew what his brother had looked like when that psycho woman had dragged him down those stairs, and it was not a man who had enjoyed a romp in the hay earlier.
"It wasn't real." Sam spat, full of self-loathing and anger. "She had worked a spell to create another hallucination with herself as the star slut in the role." He rose and stalked a few paces away, hands in fists again, head down. Dean watched him solemnly, trying to put all the pieces in place. "It wasn't real, and I was horrified when I came out of it, but still, the images and feeling of intimacy…in my dreams…" he trailed off, clearly devastated, swallowing to keep back the emotions running so very close to the surface.
Dean sat incredibly still as the entire picture became very, sickeningly, clear. The British bitch had essentially mind raped his little brother. Anger at the realization flooded his body, and it took everything in him to squash the urge to unleash on something. He knew without a doubt if he expressed the wrong emotion to Sam right now, he was going to shut down completely. So instead, firmly tamping down on everything but big brother love and comfort, he rose and walked over to Sam. Not able to find words, let alone the right words, he simply pulled him into a tight hug. Sam resisted at first, but slowly allowed himself to relax into the embrace. And as he relaxed, finding himself in the safest place he had always known, he felt all the walls he'd built up crumble, and the tears started flooding out. His knees gave out, but true to form Dean had him - simply guiding him down to the ground without letting go. He had no idea how long he cried for, just that as the tidal wave eventually subsided he felt the bone deep exhaustion, a low throb of a headache, but also a calm that only ever came from this strange, blessed connection he shared with his brother. He felt Dean start to pull away, and immediately burrowed closer. He was a grown-ass man, but so what?! Even big guys need their big brothers! He huffed a half-chuckle at his thoughts, causing Dean to draw back enough to see Sam's face.
Catching his brother's eyes, Dean made sure to hold that contact as he spoke firmly, "Sammy, you did NOTHING wrong. She abused you, plain and simple, and you had no control of the situation." Huh, his captivity in this last case must have really ramped that feeling up. Dean mused, even as the words left his mouth. Being trussed up and at the mercy of another crazy woman could not have helped anything, that's for sure. His awe at how well his brother functioned to push past his trauma, defeat the evil, and rescue the innocent made him swell with pride. You're amazing Sammy. "I'm so sorry you had to experience that, but there is no shame on you for anything your mind conjured up. Please believe me Sam."
"I'm sorry too," Dean continued in a low voice, "I kinda got all turned around by Mom's return and then her leaving, and I haven't been there for you."
"Dean, no, it's ok -" Reluctantly pulling away and rising to his feet, Sam realized how cold he had become and started to lead the way back to the car.
"It's not ok Sam. You should not have been suffering through this alone."
"You didn't know Dean. I wasn't sharing - "
"Yeah, but I know YOU Sammy. If I hadn't been so selfishly dwelling in my own pity party I would have known long ago that something was up. I'm sorry man."
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's willingness to always take on guilt, stopping and turning to look Dean in the eyes. "I didn't WANT you to know, Dean, so really, it's all good. But I forgive you." Dean stared back, finally nodding. He understood Sam's desire not to share, but he couldn't help feeling like he should have never have missed how off Sam had gotten. He would be better going forward!
Arriving back at the car, Dean reached for the driver's door but paused as Sam leaned on the roof, fiddling with his hands. Intuitively knowing there was something more coming, even as he shivered in the cool night air, he waited patiently. His patience was rewarded finally, as Sam spoke quietly, "How do I move on from here?"
"I don't know Sam, but I think tonight might have been a starting place? A little cathartic maybe?" Sam nodded slowly in agreement as he continued, "And now that I know, I can help carry the burden. You don't have to work through this alone, brother.." And if I ever encounter that bitch again, she is going to be deader than dead! he raged internally.
Opening the door, Sam slipped into the Impala. Dean joined him, turning the heat up to high to thaw them both out. As he pulled back onto the road, he heard Sam say softly, "Thanks." before curling up and closing his eyes. Dean just nodded in response, though he wasn't certain Sam even saw it. That's what I'm here for, brother. Sorry I dropped the ball before, but I'm here now. I've got you Sammy.