Hi, this is my first ever Supernatural story and my first time writing a story for anything other than anime and I'm honestly a nervous wreck! This idea had stuck in my head for quite some time and I had to get it out. I typed it in three hours and it's unbeta-ed so please forgive any terrible mistakes...There's no Wincest here(as much as I love it) but I hope you'll like it anyways. Enjoy! :)

It'll Be Alright

The first day Dean was brought back, it had been exactly 1 minute past midnight. Sam had been hunched over the desk, researching almost robotically on a case. It was what he'd been doing for...weeks? Months? He'd lost track of time.

Calloused fingers punched laptop keys, the incessant typing filling the otherwise silent room. The glare of the screen burning Sam's glazed, half-lidded eyes. A dinner takeout from two days ago lay untouched at the coffee table, along with scattered books and papers. Soon, however, the exhaustion caught up with him and his eyelids were just starting to droop when a loud 'THUD' rang through.

Sam's hunter instinct flew in at first, his hand automatically grabbing his gun as he leapt to his feet.

"Who's there?" He barked.

There was no answer.

A pair of muddy, booted feet peeked out from behind the bed. As Sam approached warily, the boots were followed by tattered jeans and a bloodied,shredded torso that made his skin prickle.

The gun fell to the floor with a clatter as Sam gasped. "Dean…?"

It was his brother. In the flesh.

Sam was by his side in an instant, checking frantically for a pulse. It was barely there and thready. Bile rose in his throat as he took in the horrid scars and deep wounds that covered almost every area of the alabaster skin.

Fortunately his mind took over his panicked state first, and he tended to his brother as best as he could. He used up nearly four first aid kits, wincing when he noticed many of the cuts needed stitches. They were going to scar badly, especially Dean's face. He kept his movements swift but gentle, grateful for that quick first aid lesson he'd had years ago. The bowl of water was a thick crimson by the time he was done. Sam tucked his unresponsive brother gently into bed, pulling up the covers. He sat by him, bowed his head, and for the first time in a long while, prayed.

Please, if there is a God...please let Dean be okay. Please.

The second day passed without a single movement from Dean. He looked like a broken doll laying there, skin matching the white sheets. His face was impassive, dull golden eyelashes resting heavily against placid cheeks. A long, deep cut that would surely scar ran across his whole face to his cheek. Bony arms rested by his sides. He would have looked dead to anyone if it wasn't for the slow rise and fall of his chest.

On the third day, Dean woke up screaming and didn't stop. Sam had to practically wrestle him into the car, away from the astonished motel staff and park at a desolate roadway in the middle of the night. Dean was still at it, hands clammed at his ears and a high-pitched, terrified scream tearing out of his throat.

"Dean, it's okay! It's okay! You're not in Hell anymore!' Sam tried to calm his brother down, gripping the thrashing body.

It fell on deaf ears. Dean's green eyes were glazed, seeing right through Sam.

It lasted for eight hours until he fainted from sheer exhaustion, slumped in Sam's arms. Sam held his brother's body tightly, heart breaking.

The fourth day Dean went frighteningly silent. He huddled in the corner of the motel room, staring frightened and wide-eyed into space. He didn't move a muscle, even falling asleep there. Sam carried him carefully to the bed and pulled up the covers, clenching his fists at what they must have done to reduce a strong man like his brother to this state.

Even in sleep, he wasn't spared. He was plagued with nightmares, fingers jerking and lips mumbling something as his brows furrowed in pain.

He remained the same for several days, eating only when Sam placed the food by his side and left him alone. He stayed vigilant by his his side until one day an urgent mission forced him away. Before leaving though he made sure the door was locked, that Dean was okay.

"I'll be back soon, Dean."

No answer.

When Sam returned, Dean was still curled in the very same spot in the corner, never having moved an inch. He still had the same blank expression pasted on his face.

"That doesn't look very comfortable there does it?" Sam asked, approaching him. He was carrying two paper bags of food he had got from the diner drive-in, ordering the salad for Dean to liven up the severely malnourished body.

As usual, Dean didn't respond.

"Let's get you up from here, okay?" He said, trying to ignore the wariness in the jade green eyes and moved to touch his brother's arm. Dean jerked away like he'd been electrocuted, backing away into the wall. He mumbled something under his lips and Sam's heart lifted at the thought of his brother finally speaking, but it fell again when he realised they were Latin incantations.

Sam swallowed. "Dean, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not a demon." He reached out again but Dean shook his head, wariness in his face melting into fear instead.

"Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me…" The words were repeated again under his breath, like a protective mantra.

Oh god, what must Dean have felt when he said those words to the demons… even though he must have known better than anyone else that the demons would hardly give a shit? Just what had he gone through? What had happened in Hell to reduce his once strong, confident brother into this state?

Sam's vision blurred with tears but he blinked them away, saying a choked "It's okay Dean, I'm here" before placing the paper bag beside his brother's trembling form. He retreated back into his research to find ways to help his brother. But he knew there was no real solution to this. You couldn't just grab him by the shoulders and tell him to snap out of it. This was different. He didn't know what happened down there, but he knew no normal person would be able to take it, not even Dean Winchester. He had to work this out slowly, and they were going to do it together.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his brother tear open the bag and scuff down his food like an animal, not caring how the food smeared his face. Sam took a napkin and placed it in front of him because he knew he was still wary of human contact.

"Here, you have some salad on your mouth, wipe it off like this."Sam demostrated. "There's some on your hands too."

Dean paused for a moment before snatching the napkin, wiping his mouth and hands while eyeing him.

"You know, it's really funny. I never knew you'd love salad that much, usually you'd choke if you were given one." Sam said, a fond smile gracing his face. However, there wasn't a single trace of recognition in Dean's eyes at that statement and he sighed, wishing his brother would be back to normal again, that he would see his familiar smirk or teasing eyes again. Hell he wouldn't even mind Dean calling him bitch or Sammy, if it meant he'd come back. But this wasn't Dean anymore. This was just a broken shell of a man.

A/N: I'll try to make the chapters longer and I hoped I haven't disappointed you. I'm not the best of writers and it feels really different writing stories that aren't anime-related but I'll try my best. Oh, and please, please, please review with fingers crossed! I love reviews because they always make my day and really, even a simple one would make me grin like an idiot. (: