Title: Forgive Me.

Author: Moody Writer.

Summary: Set during S4. Dean was so used to Sam's apologies that the word 'sorry' began to sound meaningless to him. What would convince him about how deeply sorry Sam was? One-shot.

Warnings: None.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot. No money is being made. I wrote this story for fun and that's all.

A/N: I was inspired to write this story by Evanescence's beautiful song called Forgive Me. That's why I named my story after the song. By the way, I didn't beta this story, so all the errors are mine.


Forgive me, Dean. I never meant to hurt you.

Sam spoke these words to Dean through his silent, depressed eyes every single day. After every new discovery Dean made about something his little brother had kept hidden from him, he heard 'sorry' coming from Sam right after. Sam knew that there was no need to say sorry anymore because Dean had memorized it by now, had become used to it. Like this was Sam's new habit; therefore, it was meaningless.

You have been saying that a lot lately, Sam.

Dean's words ringed in Sam's head. The painful image of Dean's disappointed, hurt look, that Sam had buried deeply in the back of his head, gushed itself out against Sam's will, running vividly before his eyes. Yes, he had been saying sorry a lot lately because he really meant it every time he said it. However, Sam knew Dean did not quite believe him and he did not blame Dean for that, never did. Sam blamed himself, like he always had and always will.

It's my fault. I deserve it. Yes, I do.

But…

Sam wanted to grasp tightly the thin thread of hope that sparkled faintly inside him. Despite the fact Sam made foolish mistakes and despite the fact Dean was furious at him right now, Sam believed that Dean had a golden heart. A heart that couldn't stand being angry with him for too long, a heart that just needed time to take him back in with arms wide open- some time to truly forgive all his mistakes and genuinely believe in him again. Perhaps even more than ever.

Maybe I shouldn't keep my hope high.

Sam had his doubts too. He knew his big brother well, in fact, more than anyone on earth, but not well enough to predict all of his actions and reactions. Dean was unpredictable sometimes, a surprise. This very trait of Dean had always impressed Sam, but thinking about it now he did not really seem too fascinated about it.

Sam's mind was so wrapped up that he didn't sense his brother approaching him.

"You O.K., Sam?"

Sam looked up at Dean, then let him gaze drift back down at his lap. "Define O.K." He rested his back against the wall behind his bed.

"Were you… crying?"

Sam rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand, checking, and obviously surprised himself to discover that his face was wet with tears.

"It's nothing. Something was probably in my eyes." Sam kept rubbing his eyes and face hard even when all traces of dry tears were gone.

Dean, worried as he was, sat at the edge of Sam's bed, his gaze scrutinizing his baby brother for seconds. Growing impatient to see Sam's face clearly, Dean caught Sam's hand, making it stop. They both locked eyes. Pleading, depressed pair of eyes met worried, anticipated ones. Both took advantage of this moment to drown deeply in the mind of another in order to read it and understand it. Both wanted to pull answers for unspoken questions and wished for their requests to be heard and granted by the other.

"What's wrong?" Dean's concerned tone of voice echoed heavenly in Sam's ears.

Sam looked away, sighing, then turned his face again to look at Dean in the eye. "I thought we hardly needed words to communicate."

Dean stared at Sam's eyes intensely. "I need to hear you say them. I don't always trust my intuition."

Sam swallowed hard. Suddenly he did not know what to say. Thoughts rushed through his mind so fast that they made him feel a little dizzy. He closed his eyes to clear his head and compose himself, wanting to put everything he had been thinking in a proper sentence that would not cause his big brother any pain. That was what he seemed to be doing a lot lately too, hurting Dean. So it was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

Sam opened his eyes, tears welling up in them. "Will you please forgive me, Dean? I- I swear I never meant to hurt you. I-I…" and the words died on his lips.

Here he said it again out loud, desperately, brokenly.

Sam fisted his hands around Dean's shirt, his pleading eyes boring holes in Dean's chest. Tears found their way down Sam's cheek. His breath hitched, making it hard for him to force any other word out. It wasn't long enough before he felt ashamed of himself for asking forgiveness when he knew he did not deserve it, not yet. He leaned away from Dean, wrapping his arms around him and bowing his head down. He tried hard to stifle his cries to no avail.

I screwed up again. God, I hate myself.

Sam's overwhelming reaction was the breaking point. Everything that he had bottled up inside his chest was pouring tears right now in front of Dean. Sam couldn't find his voice again, he did not trust it to speak his utter anguish. So he just sobbed his heart out.

Dean was at complete loss. His heart shattered into million pieces as he looked at the broken image of his baby brother in front of him. How miserable Sam was, how much sorrow he was deeply in were little Dean knew about. He knew Sam was sad, was struggling inside, but to this extent? How come he did not know about it? How come he could not feel Sam's profound agony?

Of course he couldn't. He was too angry with Sam that he put way too much distance between him and his baby brother. His outrage narrowed his insight, restricted how much he could see of the battle Sam had been going through inside himself all alone. He shut Sam out emotionally and stopped treating him gently. He simply wasn't Sam's Dean anymore, the brother Sam loved for his caring and tolerant personality. He was John Winchester.

Dean shuddered at the sudden realization. A flow of emotions rushed through his veins as hot as fire. He blinked his eyes, clearing his blurry vision. A couple of tears dropped, not touching his cheeks on the way down. He felt his face heat up and his heart pound. He reached out his right hand to touch the side of Sam's face, who was wailing and hiding his face between his hands.

"Sammy," he whispered hoarsely, running his fingers through his baby brother's hair. Sam let out another sob and pulled away from the touch, not feeling deserved to be touched either.

Dean used his hands to cup both sides of Sam's face and pull him back firmly.

"Sam." Dean's teary voice contradicted his action. He intended to sound stable and firm, but he failed. His lips quivered.

"God, I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry." Dean leaned forward to rest his forehead against Sam's, crying less fervently and more controllably than his baby brother. While his hands still circled Sam's face, Dean pulled the younger man closer to him, ending up resting Sam's head on his shoulder for seconds, then pulling him into a tight embrace.

Their bodies shook with the force of Sam's cries. He clung to Dean for dear life, like there was no tomorrow. Every hot drop of Sam's tears, that poured on the crook of Dean's neck, purified his soul and conscience. Every sob escaped Sam's lips screamed remorse, guilt and agony. Every painful clutch Sam's hands made on Dean's back screamed 'sorry' and asked for forgiveness.

Dean hugged Sam tighter in return, for he was telling Sam, by his gesture, that he granted Sam's wish, broke all the walls between them, took in his remorse and guilt to be his, forgave his mistakes like they never happened. Dean planted a hard kiss on Sam's temple, letting him know that he loved him more than he loved himself, that he would fix this, that he would be Dean again, the brother Sam wanted him to be.

"It's OK, Sammy. I got you, I got you," Dean soothed over and over again in Sam's ear. "I love you. You'll be alright. We will be alright. Don't be sorry anymore, Sammy. We will be alright."

"Y- you p-promise?" Sam choked out the words, his voice barely audible against Dean's neck.

"I promise, Samantha, I promise," Dean assured. Sam sniffled, feeling a heavy burden leave his chest at last.

The brothers remained hugging tightly for ages, neither wanting to pull away as they found comfort, peace and solution to their problems in the arms of the other.

When Sam seemed more composed and his breathing was evening out, Dean rubbed his baby brother's back gently and said, "We could use a break, don't you think? Let's go somewhere else."

"Where?" Sam mumbled, voice still hoarse from crying. He inhaled Dean's relaxing scent deeply, filling his lungs with it.

Dean pushed wisps of Sam's hair back and kissed his temple tenderly. "I don't know. Somewhere other than this place. We won't take any case for as long as you decide."

Sam's glassy eyes flickered with hope. He broke the embrace, but he gripped at Dean's shirt.

"Really?"

Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders and squeezed lightly. "Really." A soft grin on his lips.

Sam beamed, smiling back at Dean. All traces of tension, misery, anger and guilt were gone. Sam hugged Dean again for a few seconds, then pulled away.

"Thank you." Sam was overwhelmed by enormous waves of gratitude and joy as if Dean, by his suggestion, handed him the moon itself.

Dean gave Sam's shoulders another squeeze. "Don't thank me, kiddo. Don't thank me."

A pause.

"So, you want me to grab you some food?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry, but thanks anyway. I want to lay down and rest for a while."

Dean nodded in understanding. "Sure. I guess we both could use some sleep."

They grinned at each other, then Dean stood up and headed reluctantly to his bed after switching the lights off.

"I know it's still afternoon, but… good night," Dean said when he rested his head on his white pillow.

Sam smiled, "Good night, Dean.," and closed his eyes, feeling serenity engulf his soul. He knew that this time, in a long time, he was going to have a dreamless sleep or at least without a nightmare.

Fin


A/N: Thanks for reading. So what do you think?