Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am borrowing Heart and Supernatural and all the characters so that I can make myself happy. I own nothing.

So I wrote a tag (my first, and so far only, one). Heart left me severely hug depleted and I just REALLY needed a hug. So I wrote one. Here: have a hug.

Dean flinched, hearing the gunshot echo through the apartment. For a moment he stood, wondering how long he should wait before giving in to his instinct and going to his brother. Not long he decided, and with a mission, he entered the living room.

Sam was standing by the couch, the smoking gun still in his hand. His eyes stared at the floor, presumably at Madison's body- Dean wouldn't know, he didn't look there. His eyes were only on Sam. What had happened to Madison was done with. What was happening with Sam was now.

Dean didn't speak, just slowly approached his brother and gently removed the weapon from his hand. Sam released it immediately, more quickly than Dean had expected. Without a sound, Dean placed the weapon on the nearby table and then walked back to his brother.

He stood next to Sam, watching his brother's face for a moment. The tears covered Sam's cheeks and Dean waited for only a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder. The effect of the gesture was immediate as Sam's sobs became vocal and his eyes closed, leaving the girl's body. Sam turned into his brother, wrapping both arms around him as he cried into Dean's shoulder.

Dean returned the hug gently; allowing Sam to decide how much force would be between their bodies. Sam's cries were harsh and Dean willed his own tears to not fall from his eyes as he stared straight ahead at the wall. Within in his arms, Sam shook, each intake of breath grating past his swollen vocal chords.

Dean continued to just stand, not moving, not rocking, just standing and lightly holding as Sam's fists curled around the material of his shirt. He was there to give and in this moment, he would take nothing. He was a cup, filled with, love, compassion, support, understanding…and he was filled to the brim. Sam could have whatever he needed and however much of it he wanted. Dean wanted nothing; he was there only to give.

Gradually, Sam's cries quieted and slowed. The shaking stopped and the fists uncurled. Dean felt his brother turn his head, his wet eyes no longer pressed against Dean's shoulder. Where only moments ago, Sam was gripping Dean to him, now Sam seemed more to be sagging against him. Dean wrapped his arms a little tighter, welcoming his brother to lean on him.

Sam's tears still fell; Dean could feel them as they dripped down his sleeve. Every now and then Sam would cough, presumably trying to rid the flem from his throat. Dean relaxed his hold a bit and closed his eyes, now taking his hand and slowly rubbing it up and down his brother's back. Sam reacted to the motion and wilted into his brother even more. Dean could feel Sam's arms drop down a bit as he allowed Dean to take on more of his weight.

Dean accepted the burden without thought or comment and slowly and subtly, out of instinct more than anything, began a slight rocking motion. Once again, Sam reacted to his brother, pulling his arms back up, taking some of his own weight and pulling Dean back towards him. The cries seemed pick up once more and Dean stopped rubbing his brother's back to return the hug in full. Throughout the second wind of sobs, Dean continued his delicate sway.

Sam's renewed burst of tears didn't last quite as long as the first round and it wasn't long before he was again leaning his weight into his brother. Sam's arms relaxed and slackened and Dean resumed the soft stroke on his brother's back.

Throughout it all, Dean gazed straight ahead- his back to the former werewolf- eyes staring at the wall. His thoughts were filled of nothing. His mind was acutely tuned to anything and everything that Sam needed- because if Dean could offer it, Sam could have it.

Eventually, Sam's breathing slowed and gradually molded its pace until it was directly in sync with Dean's. Still, even after the tears had stopped, the brothers stayed connnected- until Sam had soaked up enough comfort from his brother that he could function.

Finally, Sam's arms dropped completely and he pulled back slowly. Dean took his own step back, his hands gently resting against his brother's arms. His eyes moved from the wall, over to his brother's face. Sam didn't look at him; instead he stared down at the floor to the right. Dean sighed and let his hands drop, running down the full length of his brother's sleeves before they released.

Sam was no longer crying. And the tears had been silent long enough that they had dried from his face- or at least had been soaked into Dean's shirt. Dean nodded at his brother, speaking with incredible gentleness, "I have some tissues in the car."

A tear rolled from Sam's eye and he shook his head. "We should bury her."

Dean brought a hand back to his brother's arm. "Her family should bury her. We'll visit after the funeral."

Sam swallowed and continued to stare at the empty spot on the floor. Dean tenderly squeezed the arm. "Sam?"

He ducked his head to try to get a better glimpse of his brother's face as Sam slowly turned to look at him. Their eyes met and Dean desperately willed himself to keep it together because Sam's shattered expression broke his heart. But the tears were forced down and Dean schooled his expression into full confidence, reassurance, and strength. Through his eyes, Dean offered his brother everything he had offered through his arms. Anything Sam needed: he could take it.

The bloodshot eyes blinked and Sam raised a hand to his brother's elbow. His nose was running and his saliva still thick enough to be visible between his lips when he spoke. Sam let out a cough before he whispered his question, "What do we do now?"

Dean rubbed the arm once again. "We'll go to the car…stop at a payphone along the way, call the cops. They'll make sure she's taken care of."

Another tear slipped out of Sam's eyes as his voice broke. "I killed her Dean."

Dean's own eyes refilled, but he kept them locked on his brother's, "You saved her. You gave her the death she wanted. You're a stronger man than me."

Sam closed his eyes at the pain that statement brought. "Dean…I'm sorry."

Dean knew what Sam was referring to, but he shook his head, "Don't. Not here. Not now. We'll go there…not now." It wasn't for him- it was for Sam. He was a bleeding open wound. He didn't need any salt poured on it. They'd open up that can of worms after this wound had healed a little bit.

Sam nodded and sighed, clearly relieved by Dean's suggestion to delay that conversation. His head back down to the floor, Sam slowly turned and made his way to the door.

A quick look around, and Dean called over to his brother. "Sam?"

Sam turned and Dean threw him the car keys. "I'll be right there. I just want to clean up some of it."

Sam shook his head, "You'd have to clean everything. I was everywhere."

Dean moved to disagree. "Sam…"

But Sam cut him off with a broken voice. "Dean."

Dean's brows drew together hearing the cry in his name and Sam continued. "Please. Come?"

Taking a deep breath, Dean nodded. "Okay."

Relief entered Sam's eyes and he turned to leave. Looking to his left, Dean grabbed the gun from the table, quickly placing it in his pants, under his shirt. Then, he ran to catch up with his brother. Sam waited at the door, moving through it only once Dean was behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Once they were out, Dean pulled shut the door, not even glancing behind him. He never even saw the body. His focus was ahead.

Review please. Let me know what you thought...