I wanted them to give us soooo much more in the moments after Sam exorcised Samhein. They passed up a truly great Hurt!Sam/Worried!Dean moment there, and I personally am SERIOUSLY starved for a little H/C.

So what happens when the writers don't give us what we want? We have to take matters into our own hands. I realize this concept has probably been beaten to death, but the voices wouldn't shut up until I wrote my version of it. And I do realize I sort of missed the window posting this, seeing as the episode aired what...over a month ago? lol But oh well. Like Dean says "You can't rush perfection." Or in my case...passable writing.

Hope you enjoy the broness: )


Chapter 1: Sam

Ruby's knife lay ten feet away. Far out of reach and on the other side of a very powerful, very pissed off demon. Sam's mind raced as he picked himself off the floor, quickly coming up with no ideas. He was cornered with his back, literally, against a wall. So when the demon charged him, he knew he had no choice. Sam thrust his arm out, palm facing the demon, Samhain, and stopping it in its tracks. Sam immediately felt the difference in this demon from all the others. The strength of this one was staggeringly greater than that of the low-level demons he was used to and he had to concentrate harder on keeping it away from him.

Black smoke misted out of the bullet holes in the demon's stolen skin. The pale eyes looked down at its chest in shock before turning angrily to glare at Sam. Its feet slipped against the floor as it managed to take a half-step forward, struggling against the invisible force keeping it at bay. Sam's hand trembled with the effort and his features twitched constantly as the strain became too much. He still felt the field of energy separating himself from the demon waver a little. The demon pressed a few more leaden steps forward before Sam was able to draw together enough energy to stop it again. The demon barred it's teeth and snarled quietly at him.

Something over the demon's shoulder caught Sam's eye, a figure appearing at the end of the hall. Sam looked up and saw Dean standing, staring at him, lips parted and features smoothed in some form of awe. Sam felt his hold weaken a little more and panic spread through him as he looked his brother. "No!" His mind yelled. "This evil bastard will kill you. He'll kill Dean if you don't win this." Sam's eyes flicked between Dean and the demon a few times before focusing fully on the latter. Sam set his jaw stubbornly and narrowed his eyes. "Not going to happen. I won't let it." Sam pushed harder and immediately felt the field strengthen again. "I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else. I won't let you hurt him." Sam's ears popped and he heard an odd ringing sound. He grimaced and clenched his teeth, trying to ignore it as it started to become too loud. A second later, pain split through his head, sending a quick, reverberating shock wave down through his body and into his arms. Sam's free hand flew up to grasp his head, forcing back the pain and focusing everything on sending this demon back to Hell.

The demon's dead-looking eyes stared wide, shocked at Sam as smoke began to tumble from its mouth. Sam tapped into his final reserves of strength and focused them on the task at hand. "Almost there, almost there, almost there." Sam chanted in his head. He felt something warm roll over his lips and he tasted iron. More of the demon billowed out of its host. "Just a little more." God, his head pressed further, further until he felt himself getting the upper hand. He dropped his clawed fingers from his head and the last of the black smoke fell from the host's mouth, leaving the art teacher who it had possessed to fall to the floor. Tremors shook through Sam and he could feel his heart pounding in his head, now a dull -though not weak- pain instead of the stabbing agony like before. He lowered his hand towards the black clouds swirling around the man's still body until the smoke seeped down through the tiles on the floor, tracing fiery lines where the demon fell through the cracks and back down to Hell.

Sam broke his hold and let his arm fall heavily to his side, his chest heaving as he pulled in deep breaths. He felt eyes looking at him and he hesitantly looked up to meet what he knew was his brother's gaze, all the while feeling ashamed of himself. Sam's chin trembled as he tried to control the myriad of emotions that threatened to break him. He hadn't wanted Dean to see him like this. This was something he'd never wanted his brother to witness. The expression on Dean's face didn't help either. He looked scared, heart-broken, and defeated; three things Sam wasn't used to, and hated, seeing Dean like. And what was worse, Sam knew he was the cause of it.

Sam felt completely drained of energy. His arms and legs felt like led, his hands shook at his side, and his head was killing him, the pain ten times worse than the aftermath of any of his visions. He took in a deep, shuddering breath and dropped his eyes away from Dean; he hadn't the strength to witness his brother's broken spirit anymore. Sam took a heavy step forward, the second one sending him to his knees. He groaned as the impact jarred his aching head and doubled over clutching at his forehead with both hands. Heavy, running footsteps drew close and Sam felt the tension in him ease a little as comforting hands gripped his shoulders. The fact that Dean was even willing to come near him was a huge relief.

"Sam, hey. Talk to me. You okay?"

The genuine love and concern in Dean's voice twisted something in Sam's chest; he'd half expected never to hear that tone again. Relief nearly pushed Sam over the edge and he had to bite his lower lip to hold back the sobs jumping in his chest. The hands moved from Sam's shoulders to either side of his face and Sam let his own hands drop as Dean's gently lifted his head. Sam slowly swept his eyes up to meet his brother's. A line of concern creased between Dean's eyebrows and he mumbled a curse under his breath as his eyes stilled on Sam's nose.

Dean's left thumb moved to wipe away the line of blood running down over Sam's lips. He winced silently as he examined the smudge of red on his finger before meeting Sam's gaze, green searching blue-green. Sam just looked back and remained as still as possible, afraid that at any wrong movement would set Dean off and he would storm away in a fit of rage. Instead, Dean pulled up the cuff of his jacket and wiped away the rest of the blood running from Sam's nose.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked. Sam couldn't stop the tears that rolled from his too-warm-feeling eyes.

"I'm sorry." His whispered voice cracked a little. The effect it had on Dean could not be hidden. Sam noticed the slight tremble of Dean's lower lip, saw the light reflect off the new-found shine in his eyes. Dean just looked back at him for a few moments, then blinked. His eyebrows quirked a little and he licked his lips. He shook his head slowly.

"You didn't have a choice." Dean's voice was gruff and low. The words felt like a kick to Sam's stomach; that didn't exactly sound like acceptance of his apology. His disappointment must have shown on his face. Dean's eyebrows dipped a fraction lower and his head tilted to the side slightly. He blinked again, his features suddenly softened. "I'm not mad at you, Sammy."

Relief flooded Sam. He didn't even really care if Dean was lying. The fact that he was at least trying to humor him was enough for Sam at that moment. He felt the tears prickling more incessantly at his sinuses, but he pushed them back. Dean's hands hooked carefully under Sam's shoulders and he helped him so he could lean back against the wall he'd been thrown against not five minutes earlier. Dean hopped on his left boot to readjust his crouch next to Sam and he gave his shoulders a light shake.

"Are. you. okay? And answer me this time."

Sam sniffed and brought a leaden arm up to wipe the sleeve under his nose.

"Head hurts." He said quietly. Dean pressed a finger under Sam's chin and tilted his head back, his eyes flicking between Sam's.

"Any blurred vision? Spots? Numbness anywhere?"

"No." Sam answered simply, watching Dean. Dean dropped his hands from Sam's face and leaned back on his heels.

"How many fingers?" He asked, holding up his left hand.

"Three." Sam answered correctly. Dean nodded, looking satisfied that Sam had not done any physical harm to himself, but Sam could tell he was still sizing him up, surveying any other possible damage. He knew that Dean didn't like silences, or he didn't like his silences, anyway. So Sam knew the fact that he hadn't said much was probably sounding warning bells in Dean's head. Sam let his eyes slipped closed and his head fell back against the stone wall with a dull thunk.

"M'tired." Sam all but squeaked. He heard Dean's boots scuff against the floor and he felt him move closer.

"Can you walk?" Dean's deep voice inquired gently.

"Didn't seem to work out too well the last time I tried." Sam said, opening his eyes and giving Dean a weak smile. Dean managed a shaky half-smile, but Sam could still see that look in his eyes.

"Come on. I'll help. We'll make it okay."

The words hit closer to home than Sam knew Dean had intended, but he still couldn't stop the world from going blurry around the edges again. Sam bit his lip and dropped his head down. It seemed like no matter what he did, no matter how much he screwed up, how many times he hurt Dean, he would still be there. Dean would never give up on him. It had always felt like a blessing to Sam. He just hoped things never got bad enough that it would turn into a curse.

Dean's face appeared suddenly before him, concern on his features more evident than before.

"Hey." Dean said softly, eyebrows furrowing a little, a hand resting gently on Sam's shoulder. Sam raised his head and nodded.

"Yeah." He sniffed loudly. "Let's get the hell outta here."

Dean swept his eyes carefully over Sam before standing. He reached down, Sam reaching back, and grasped Sam's forearm at the elbow. Sam tightened his grip on Dean's arm and was hauled to his feet. Sam's head gave a particularly painful thud and the room spun. He felt Dean's arm immediately wrap securely around his back, the other hand splayed over his chest, steadying. The room finished its final turn and Sam nodded. Dean pulled Sam's right arm across his shoulders and started walking, giving the recently possessed body a wide berth.

"What about him?" Sam rasped as he looked over his shoulder at the dead art teacher.

"Well, we're in a mausoleum. The way I see it...he's already where he's supposed to be."

Sam didn't argue, especially since he didn't have a better idea. A salt and burn would normally be in order, but he was quickly losing confidence in how much longer he could stay conscious. Dean stopped suddenly and took Sam's arm off his shoulders, still keeping a firm grip on it as he bent down and retrieved Ruby's knife.

"He knocked it away from me." Sam supplied numbly as he stared at the knife, not really sure what the point was behind trying to explain himself. Dean stowed the knife in an inner pocket of his jacket and repositioned Sam's arm back to its previous place.

"You did what you had to, Sam." Dean supported most of Sam's weight as they started forward again. "He probably would have killed you."

"He would have. And he would have killed you too, Dean." Sam didn't say what he was thinking. He didn't want Dean to find a way to blame himself for what had happened. "I was unable to stop that from happening once, Dean. I wasn't about to do it again. I won't let that happen again. I swear to God, I won't." Dean's voice cut into Sam's thoughts suddenly.

"But next time I say you're not going off by yourself, you wait for me. You understand me?"

Sam could hear fear behind Dean's demanding tone. He knew there was truth to what Dean said. Experience had done nothing but show them the dangers of separating, but Sam thanked God that he had decided to break the "stick together" rule once again. If Dean had gone with him to face Samhain instead of staying behind to deal with the various supernatural beings in the mausoleum crypt, he would probably be dead right now. True, Sam was immune to the blast that both Lillith and Samhain had thrown at him, but he would bet anything that Dean would not be. And Sam was not the least bit interested in finding out if he was right.

Not wanting to kick his brother while he was already freaked to hell, Sam kept his reply simple.

"Yeah. I understand."

"We're stronger as a family. You said that yourself once." Dean paused a moment. "There's nothing we can't handle if we take it on together."

Sam just nodded carefully. He couldn't agree more. He felt most confident on a hunt when he knew that Dean had his back, felt his best when he had his brother by his side.

"I want you to never forget that, Sammy." Dean said softly after a moment.

Sam looked over at his brother's profile. Dean's eyes focused straight ahead, his lips held tightly together, and his jaw set stubbornly. In that moment, a nearly forgotten feeling filled and warmed Sam. It was a feeling that had followed him around for all of his childhood, but as an adult, Sam could only recall a handful of times he had experienced it. The last time he had felt it had been in passing. It had been that night back in Saginaw when he and Dean were packing their things back at the hotel after leaving the scene of Max Millar's suicide. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you." Twelve simple, yet forever powerful words had stirred up a feeling of pure, unwavering comfort in Sam. It had been a moment where he truly believed in what Dean had to say and that he alone could make everything alright again. A moment where his big brother could protect him from everything bad in the world.

Sam let his eyes slip closed briefly as love and trust warmed away the cold that had had its icy grip on his chest for the past few minutes. They reached the stairs leading up from the mausoleum and Dean readjusted his hold on Sam's wrist before starting up them. The movement caused Sam's fingertips to brush the cuff of Dean's jacket and he hooked his fingers on the fabric and fisted the material tightly in his hand, holding onto his brother and the strength he provided for as long and as tightly as he could.

...To Be Reiterated...


A few more thoughts

I cannot get the concept out of my head that Dean always seems to be responsible for power-spikes in Sam's abilities. And that look he gave Dean right before he pushed himself hard enough to make his nose bleed just seemed significant. The second Sam looked away from Dean, his face changed. He got more determined and OMG his powers grew strong enough to take a physical toll on him. Not to mention the cabinet in Nightmare. -Shrugs- I don't know, they just sure seem to REALLY stress how much Sam is wiling to do for Dean (and vice versa, but Dean has already proved his part of that)

I'll have Dean's POV up in chapter two as soon as I can. Shouldn't be too long.

Ok, so...good? No good? Like every other tag to this scene out there?

Reviews are like candy...and I'm Dean on Halloween: )