A/N: Concussion one week, and then hospital the next? Kripke, you sure know how to make Hurt! Dean fangirls go wild.
Word count: This one really got away from me, just consider it weekly drabble x5 ^^
Spoilers: Takes place after 4x11
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would probably be too much Limp Sam and Damaged Dean to keep anything resembling a plot line going, so it's probably a good thing I don't.
"…And I liked it."
Weary eyes peeked through a crack in Venetian blinds. Turmoil and confusion reigned inside, but he could do nothing about it.
Ants pounced, feasting on roast beef as Sam absently set his sandwich down, narrowing his eyes at his brother.
"I don't believe you."
A friendly wave from outside. 'Can I come in?'
Dean scoffed, but didn't meet his brother's gaze. "It felt good. It's not pretty, but you wanted the truth."
'No. Inside is dark and messy. It's better out there.'
Sam vehemently shook his head in disbelief. "You didn't enjoy torture. It may have been relief from physical pain, but I know you were hurting every day of those 10 years. That sounds like Hell to me."
He smiled. 'But I can help.'
"Yeah?" The older Winchester snapped, his tone a growl. "And what would you know about Hell?"
'Stay away! I don't want you too…Everything is dirty, broken…'
"Nothing. I know nothing about it. Because of you." Sam's voice dropped, growing more intense. "I may not know Hell, but I know my brother better than anything else on Earth." He put his hands on Dean's shoulders, shaking them slightly to get his brother to look at him. "And for years my big brother has put his own happiness aside to save people."
'Then it's a good thing I had someone to teach me how to fix things.'
"Get off." Dean gripped, half-heartedly trying to push him away, but Sam's grip remained firm.
"You do everything possible to keep others out of harm's way. I know how much you hate to see people suffer. Nothing you say will make me think anything else."
The door was locked. The figure outside was persistent, searching for what he knew was there, just under the rug on the doorstep.
"Sammy…" Dean closed his eyes against the heaviness they contained, the saltwater that was beginning to sting.
A tired glance at the door. The man inside knew the other wouldn't give up. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to be alone anymore. Maybe the empty feeling would go away if he had company.
"I just want to help." Sam moved one hand from his brother's shoulder to his cheek, making his brother meet his gaze.
"It's me, Dean. You can stop running."
A twist of the key. A hand on the doorknob, hesitating. He could enter at any time now, but if he could wait it out, he just might be invited.
He'd been running since he got out of Hell. Dean didn't want time think about what he'ddone, or about how badly it hurt, to feel the hollow void growing in his soul. But Sam was pleading, and Dean had never been able to deny his brother anything, even concerning his own heart.
Wordlessly, outstretched angry palms became tightly fisted balls of his younger brother's shirt. His forehead came to rest against Sam's shoulder and Dean felt Sam's arms wrap around him and draw him closer as his own shoulders began to shake.
'If that's really what you want…I guess I can't stop you.' The outsider opened the door, greeting the other man with a cautious expression, raising an eyebrow. The man inside the house returned it with a small smile, a light that had been absent in green eyes now softly glowing again.
Dean could fend off the rest of the world- bottled up emotions, boarded windows and locked the doors. Only Sammy knew there was a spare key under the doormat.
'Just leave your boots outside- I don't need Sasquatch tracking mud into this mess.'
A/N: I really hope that didn't confuse anybody.