Hi guys :D This was a request for my friend Jamie.

It's another Sam/Dean oneshot and again, it could be perceived as wincest or just as bromance or something, idk.

It's not too long, but hopefully you guys like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural. *sob*

Rated T for language.


It was colder and quieter than usual in their cramped hotel room. Dean was watching TV and Sam was doing some sort of research for God knows what—it seemed like everything was normal, but really, it wasn't.

"Sam, you sided with Ruby. A demon, Sam! A demon!" Dean's hands were up, almost in an "I-give-up" sort of way. Sam knew that when Dean said his name a lot, he was really upset.

"Dean, I—I'm sorry! I wanted to kill Lilith, and—"

"Look what that got us, Sammy."

Sam recognized that Dean was just angry, and that he really didn't blame Sam for this (at least, he hoped.) But that didn't stop the hurt from touching Sam's face.

"You think I knew that this—any of this—would happen? You think I knew I would become addicted to…to demon blood?" Sam watched his brother wince in disgust, and his heart clenched. The thing he wanted least, which was to be hated by his brother, was slowly happening.

"What do you want me to do, Dean? If I could go back and not choose Ruby, I would. I would do anything to—"

"Yeah well, you can't go back. You chose her, Sam. You chose her over—you just chose her. I know you'd do anything to go back and change it, but that's not possible, Sammy."

Dean knew Sam would; he'd give anything to redo it. Sam thought that maybe this was some understanding, so he tried again. "Well…are we…are we okay? Will we be?"

"No, Sam. We're not okay. I honestly don't know if we ever will be." An expressionless Dean avoided his brother's eyes as he turned on his heel and into the car. He knew that one look into Sam's eyes would cause him to melt, to forgive, to welcome back. But he couldn't do it right now. He was hurt. What he so desperately wanted to say was that Sam chose Ruby over him. Sam chose Ruby over Dean, and that alone broke his heart more than the God damned apocalypse.

This is where they were now, situated in their too small hotel room, pretending to be interested in other things when they really weren't. They were both broken hearted, and nothing but each other could fix it. Dean seemed content enough not talking about it anymore, but Sam wasn't done yet. He couldn't lose his brother; his other half. There couldn't be just Sam without Dean, or Dean without Sam. They needed each other like they needed air, despite how badly things were right now.

"Dean—"

"Drop it, Sam."

"No, please, just listen. Please Dean?" His voice was so utterly broken and hurt than Dean couldn't even deny him. Then again, Dean could barely deny him when he wasn't broken.

With a silent nod of approval, Dean muted his tv show and waited for Sam to scramble awkwardly to the other side of the couch, so that he could look at Dean. So that Dean could look at him and see how sorry he was. How hurt he was. It was a little bit of a pity card, but Sam would take anything that he could right now. He needed things to be okay.

"What is it, Sam?" Dean rubbed his hand over his face like he did when he was tired, and defeated, and done. His voice didn't have that spark to it like it usually did, it was just empty; hollow. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at his brother's face until he was forced to look back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I did this whole apocalypse thing. It's my fault, I take responsibility for it, and I know you're mad at me. I know you're mad at me for lying to you about Ruby, and for not telling you about what I was doing with my powers, and for the demon blood, and for everything. I can live with the guilt. But Dean," he started, swallowing down the emotions that were about to pour out of his throat. "I can't live with you hating me."

Dean sighed, tearing his eyes away from his brother's. He couldn't sit there and watch Sam hurt, knowing it was him who played a part in it. But he couldn't trust him right now. Sam still was addicted to demon blood, and he didn't want to be second to that, either. It hurt, watching your entire world put something, someone else before you.

"Sam, I don't—"

"Don't say you don't hate me, Dean. If you don't right now, you will. It'll grow to that over time if we don't settle this and God dammit, Dean, I'm fucking sorry."

"You chose her, Sam. You chose her over me." Finally, it was voiced. Dean's voice was nothing more than a hoarse murmur, and Sam felt his heart breaking all over again. So this was what was bothering him.

"I put you first, you know," Dean continued, not waiting for Sam to speak. His voice grew louder. "Everything, Sam. I even covered your ass from Castiel when we thought something was up. I went through hell for you, and you choose a demon and her blood over me. I—dammit, Sam. We're brothers."

"I know what I did, Dean!" Sam's voice was just as loud, and in the back of his mind he was sure that someone would complain from the next rooms. "I know what I fucking did, okay? I know everything. I can't change it, and I still—still want demon blood. But not as much as I want us to go back to how we were." His voice quieted, and he scooted closer to Dean and put a large hand on his brother's wrist. Dean would have called him Samantha if they weren't fighting. "I'd do anything to take it back, but I can't. So now I'm going to do whatever I can to fix it. Please, Dean. Let me back in. You can put me in the panic room again and I—I won't even complain! I want to get rid of this addiction as much as you do and I want to go hunting again and I want to be able to joke around with you and I just want to be okay." Sam was ranting, but he couldn't stop until everything was said. He really just couldn't.

Dean sat, stone faced, and listened.

"And really, you think this isn't killing me inside too? That I chose some stupid girl and an addiction over you? I would die for you in a second, Dean. Honestly, I would. I left you once, and then I left you again, and I'm a piece of shit for a brother and I can't promise to tell you all of my secrets but I can't help it and Dean, I'm so, so sorry and I don't know what I'll do if we can't be okay with each other because you just—I need you."

The silence rung loud in their ears, as if someone were actually screaming. They sat like that, quiet except for Sam's loud puffs of breath, for a couple of moments. Dean was absorbing everything in—What do I do? What the fuck should I do?—and Sam sat there, empty. He threw just about everything out there, and he was now left feeling very empty and satiated, as if he just threw up.

"Sam."

"Yeah, Dean?" He was glad to hear his brother's voice, but worried at the same time. What if he didn't accept his apology? What if he could never be able to hug Dean? Not that they hugged much, but whenever they did Sam was filled with a sense of calm; a sense that his brother was alive and that they were okay.

"No more demon blood?"

"No more demon blood."

Dean let the lightest smile touch his face, and he nodded. It wasn't going to be an immediate 180 degree turn, but it was a start. Dean was going to let it go. "Then I guess we'll be okay, somehow, Sammy." Of course they'd be okay. Dean was just as lost without Sam. He couldn't even be angry with him for long.

Dean was thrown out of his thoughts by Sam's huge figure pressing against his in a hug. Dean was never the affectionate one; hugs and nice words just weren't really his thing. Sometimes though, he let his macho man bravado slide. I guess a hug wouldn't be a big deal.

His grip tightened around his brother, and he realized how good a simple hug could be. It spoke words for them, holding all of their sorries. We have to stick together, because we're all we've got. I love you, man. I'm so sorry. I need you, and you need me, and we can't do this on our own.

The moment was over and it was a little bit awkward, but Dean let Sam pick a movie for them to watch that night, and he let Sam drive the Impala the next morning.

Things weren't perfect, but they knew better than anyone that life wasn't perfect. It might not have been perfect, but they'd make the best of what they got.


Welp, there it is! I hope you liked it, Jamie.

(As well as anyone else who read it, of course.)

Review, please? Constructive criticism is always taken into consideration; I'm clearly not the best writer, but I try to do a good job.

And comments on what you thought really make my day.

If you have any requests at all just leave them! I'll get on them as soon as possible.

Thanks guys :D