"Dean, I swear, if you don't go get some damn sleep, I'll cut and run." Sam did his best to give his brother an intimidating glare, but it was offset by the corners of his mouth quirking up.
Dean glanced at Sam and smirked at him bemused. "Yeah, and who's gonna bring the wheelchair to roll you out?" Sam was definitely looking better than he had two days ago after the seizure, but he was still far from hale. His hair hung in lanky strands around his pale face, and his eyes were so sunken in he looked like a raccoon. Dean still winced every time he saw his little brother's chest and how his ribs stuck out. The kid had lost a lot of weight, but at least he was breathing on his own. Dean had to close his eyes at the memory of the ventilator. He'd never been so ecstatic than when they removed it. He remembered the hell of gagging on that thing. Stop he told himself. That line of thought led down a path to memories he'd rather not dwell in.
"Um hello?" Sam was waving his hand feebly in front of Dean's face. As soon as Dean looked up, he sank back into the bed. "You were a million miles away. What's up?"
Dean just shook his head and shrugged. He wasn't sure if they were ready for this talk. He knew he needed to apologize for his actions after their father's death, but he couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat every time he tried. Instead, he just sat back down on the chair that had become a second home over the last few days. A second uncomfortable home, but Dean wasn't about to start complaining now that he had Sam back.
"Seriously man," Sam fixed him with those puppy dog eyes. "You need sleep, you look like hell. I'm fine now; you don't have to worry anymore."
"Like hell Sam. Just stop. I'm not going anywhere," Dean practically growled. Sam shrank back at the harsh tone, and Dean could see the shutters go down in his expressive eyes. It was the same look he had given him on that deserted roadway, and Dean's heart broke then and there. With tears welling up in his eyes, he gave a heavy sigh and grabbed for Sam's hand. The expression on Sam's face would have been hysterical in any situation but this one.
"Dean, man, I'm okay now." Sam leaned over to pat Dean on the shoulder awkwardly. When did it come to this? Why were they always walking on eggshells around each other?
"No, Sammy, you're not." Dean looked up, and Sam's eyes got wider at the look of unabashed agony on his brother's face. "Neither of us is."
Sam opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again just as quickly. This is what he had been waiting for since their father had died, and though the raw agony his brother was in tore at his heart, he realized the necessity of this catharsis.
Tears streamed down Dean's face unwarranted and his shoulders shook in silent sobs. Sam found that his own eyes were moistening at the site. Dean's next word made his heart burst with love for his brother.
"Sam, Sammy," Dean took an exaggerated breath, "I love you. I know I don't say it enough, but I almost lost you and…" Dean couldn't finish as he was overwhelmed by emotions he had kept locked away for weeks now. With a surge he enveloped Sam in his arms and it was at that moment that Sam realized they had a long way to go, but they'd be okay as long as they had each other.
Alright guys, that's it. I'm sorry if the ending sucked, but I'm so much better at limp!Sam than resolving stuff between them. Plus, I wanted to leave it so it could segway into Bloodlust. At this point nothing is resolved anyway, but deep down I just know Dean realizes that he'd be nowhere without Sam.