-Author's Note: This is a sort of an alternative ending to all the FanFic stories, where Sam enjoys abusing Dean. My SPN heart just wouldn't settle for a cruel Sam and a destroyed Dean. I had to save them D: So if you like happy endings, this one is for you :3
This is my very first fanfic story ever, so please take that in consideration
Dean could only take so much. It's been 5 years since Dean saved Sam from the yellow-eyed-demon, but since then, both Sam and Dean were different men. Dean existed only for Sam's pleasure. And Sam took the most pleasure in torturing Dean in any way possible. There wasn't a part of Dean left untouched by Sam's evilness.
And yet, Dean loved him. He tried, every day of his life to please Sam, to do whatever it took to keep him happy, but Sam always found something to be angry about, always a reason to punish Dean. And Sam knew how to get creative, when it came to punishments. Dean knew that he wasn't good enough for Sam. Sam was wasting his life with Dean and that's why he hated him so much. That's why Dean had to suffer.
Once it got very bad. Sam was a little drunk and raging at Dean and he almost killed him in the process of punishing him. Then he stood over the bloodied body of his older brother, spat at him and said: "I wish you were dead." And with that, he walked out of the house.
Dean curled up to himself and cried. He cried, because he failed his brother. He could never make him happy. And that's when he decided, he has to free Sam from his meaningless presence. Sam will be angry, for a while, but then he'll find someone worthy his love. Sam will be happy. If only Dean were gone. That was Sam's wish, after all. And with that, Dean slit his wrists and smiled as he felt the life flowing out of him. He could finally make his brother happy.
When Sam arrived back home, he grinned, because Dean wasn't greeting him by the door as he usually did, which meant the boy was in trouble. And Sam was looking forward to some tearing and raping tonight. He walked to the bedroom to see Dean's body on the bed. He opened his mouth to yell at him, when he noticed the red stains of blood on the blanket. He took a step closer and noticed a piece of paper on the nightstand. There stood with a very shaken handwriting:
I'm so sorry I'm not good enough.
Forgive me, Sam.
I wish you the best in your life.
I love you, Dean.
Sam just stared into the paper, getting more furious each second. The wrath was so overwhelming, his head started to hurt. It hurt a lot. Sam dropped on his knees, squeezing his head in his hands, screaming. The bonds tying the good side of Sam and separating it from the evil one broke. Azazel created them, before Dean got to them. With one more yell the pain was suddenly gone and Sam sat there, panting. The real Sam. The Sam that had been missing since Cold Oak. But he's back now and he has no time to figure anything out. He has to save Dean.
He does his best with bandaging the wounds on Dean's wrists as fast as possible and takes him to the hospital. They take him to surgery immediately. When they get back to Sam, they say it's possible he can make it, but they can't promise anything. Sam will have to wait. They also tell him that Dean's body shows signs of extensive abuse and that they have to report such cases to the police. Sam nods. It's all kind of foggy and he wasn't present half of the time, but he knows he's done terrible things to Dean. But not anymore.
When the police asked Sam about what he knew of the abusing, he wasn't really lying, when he told them, that he didn't know anything, because he was gone until now. He didn't tell them the truth, because they would take him away and he had to be near Dean. To see if he had killed the person he loved the most in this world.
When they finally let Sam in Dean's room, he wasn't even sure if he should go there. Sam had no right. It was supposed to be a place to heal Dean, to help him relax. And if Dean woke up and saw Sam there... But Sam shook all these feelings off. He has to be there, he has to let Dean know it's okay, he has to fix it.
When Sam walked into the white room, Dean was hooked on a life support, most of his body bandaged up or even in plaster. The only things not caused by Sam were the wrists. Sam sat next to Dean's bed and took his hand.
And there, in the quiet room disturbed only by the constant beeping of Dean's heart monitor, it finally hit Sam. How badly he'd hurt Dean, how twisted and evil he had become. His feelings finally caught up to him. A tear slipped from his eye. And a stream of salt water followed shortly. Sam rested his forehead on the hand he's been holding and cried.
It's been days. Sam knew the doctors said that Dean had lost too much blood and given all his other injuries; the body was going to need time to heal. Sam was praying to anything out there that Dean wakes up. He didn't move for three days. He was holding Dean's hand, sometimes the nurses found him half-asleep and they basically forced him to drink and eat.
Dean's body was in fact getting better. He was breathing on his own and the injuries left scars, but no permanent damage. But Sam was afraid that Dean had no intentions of coming back.
Day 4. Sam was hypnotizing Dean's closed eyes, begging him to wake up. Just like every other day. Sam refused to listen to the little voice that was telling him, that maybe it's time to give up. Then he saw Dean's eyelids flutter. It was almost impossible to notice, but Sam did. Then they fluttered again and Sam could have sworn, Dean's lips moved.
"Nurse!" he called quickly.
The nurse came in the room the same second Dean opened his eyes.
"Mr. Winchester, you're in the hospital. You attempted suicide. Do you remember anything? Do you know what year it is?" she asked him, while she was checking his pupils, his temperature and everything. Dean's eyes were wide open; he seemed confused, even lost. Then his eyes fell on Sam and he froze. There was pure fear in his eyes.
The nurse didn't notice any of that though as she turned to Sam: "I have to let the police know."
Sam nodded. "Can you...can you give us a little time?"
She bit her lip, but then nodded. "You have ten minutes."
When she walked out of the room, Sam looked back at Dean, who hasn't move an inch.
"It's okay, Dean. I'm not...I won't hurt you. Ever again. Promise."
Sam raised his hands to show Dean, that he doesn't have anything to hurt him with. Dean just kept staring at him. The utter fear in his eyes made Sam's heart heavy.
"Dean...listen to me, please...police officers are going to come here and ask you about..."Sam pointed at Dean's injuries. "You can tell them, Dean. Tell them everything. What I did to you. They will take me away, lock me up and I will never ever hurt you again. It's okay, Dean, I swear. Tell them the truth. I just want you to know that-"Sam's voice started to shake and he bowed his head," that I'm so sorry. Forgive me, if you can. I love you."
He dared to look back in Dean's eyes. There was still the fear, but his eyes were soft, warm, and full of love. That was the moment Sam knew, that Dean wasn't human. He was a creature of light and good. And Sam was the evil darkness that tore him down and broke him. His eyes filled with tears, because he already knew what Dean was going to say, before he actually said it.
"I won't tell them, Sam," he whispered, "I promise."
Dean hasn't seen any living person other than Sam in 5 years, nor has he left the house they lived in and the sudden flow of police officers, doctors, reporters and many other people made him shut down. He didn't talk anymore, he wouldn't let anyone touch him, the only one he seemed to listen to was Sam. Sam convinced the doctors and psychiatrists to release Dean into his custody.
While Dean was still at hospital, Sam was by his side every day and working on the house every night. He painted the walls, moved the furniture, he changed everything possible. His first intention was to make a separate bedroom for Dean, but the house didn't have enough rooms, so at least he drew a line, far enough from Dean's bed around it. He tried to remember all the hideouts, where the other Sam (Sam refused to think about him as a part of himself) kept the torturing instruments and got rid of them. Most of them brought back memories and Sam was horrified by the bestiality of his own actions.
Sam had Dean handcuffed to the bed so tightly, Dean's wrists were bleeding. Dean's screams were muffled by a gag in his mouth, his cheeks wet with tears. Sam had a shotgun up his ass, his finger on the trigger and laughed cruelly. "You better not move, Dean, or else I might hit the trigger. And that would upset me. You don't want me to be upset, do you?" Dean shook his head and Sam just laughed harder...
Sam looked at the shotgun with horror, when he found it. He quickly threw it away and searched the house three more times to make sure, that he got rid of everything. Finally, he felt like the house was ready for Dean to come back.
Sam drove Dean home from the hospital and opened the doors for him. It seemed to him that Dean was waiting with every move until Sam said it was okay. He knew it would take long before Dean got rid of all of the old habits. But it was still breaking Sam's heart a little.
Dean hesitated a bit before stepping into the house, but once he did, he immediately headed for the bedroom. He stopped on the doorstep and stared with his mouth open. Then he looked at Sam with confusion and an obvious question in his eyes.
"That's right, Dean," Sam smiled. "A new bedroom. New life. New beginning. See the line here?" He pointed at a bright yellow line drawn on a blue carpet that was somehow separating a bed and a nightstand from the rest of the room.
"You can go anywhere in the house you want. Do anything, anytime. But behind this line, that's your private space. I can't go there, I will never cross the line. So whenever you're scared or you just want to be alone, you can go behind the line and no one will follow you, okay?"
Dean's expression hasn't changed.
"Are you hungry, Dean? Do you want something to eat?"
Dean nodded slowly and cautiously moved towards his bed and sat down. Sam had already prepared some meat with noodles, so he just heated it up and put it into two plates. When he turned around, he saw Dean hasn't moved, he was just sitting still and staring at Sam, eyes wide open. As if he was trying to figure out from which direction is the next blow going to come.
Which he probably really is, Sam thought bitterly.
He took Dean's plate and a fork with a knife and slowly approached him, stopping a foot away from the line. With a smile, he handed the meal to Dean. Dean's mouth fell open once again and then he stood up and mesmerized walked towards Sam and slowly took his plate and hurried back on his bed. Sam's smile grew a little larger and he sat down to a kitchen table to eat his own food. He kept his eyes locked on Dean, who kept them locked on him.
When Sam finished eating, Dean stood up, even though he barely ate a half of his own food and put Sam's plate into their sink and wanted to throw the rest of his noodles to the waist bin.
"Dean?" Sam asked carefully.
Dean froze with the plate in his hand and didn't even dare to look at Sam.
"Was the food bad?"
Dean shook his head quickly and started to shiver.
"You can finish it, if you want. I will wait. And I can do the dishes."
Dean finally looked at him with a massive confusion. Still shaking he sat to the table opposite to Sam and started eating again.
"You know, you don't have to eat it if you don't like it," Sam said slowly. "I can always make you something else."
Dean put his arms around his plate protectively.
"Okay," Sam smiled.
He was smiling on the outside a lot. He wanted Dean to believe, that it's real. That the horror he had to live through is truly over. He made sure his voice was always low, slow and calm, that his hands were always empty and visible for Dean and most importantly that he never crossed Dean's private line. But on the inside, it was killing him. Every scared look Dean gave him, every time he froze, when they accidentally touched, waiting for the beating to start were more than Sam could take. But he had to take it. He would do anything to make Dean better. He owed him that.
The days went by slowly, but not without any progress. Sam convinced Dean not to stand by his bed until he woke up, waiting for orders. Or when he came back from shopping for food and supplies, Dean always used to wait by the door to take the bags from him. Now he would just look up at Sam, asking with his eyes, if he should get up and help him.
Even though Sam felt like Dean was still just obeying his orders, he was happy Dean was doing things for himself. He quite seemed to enjoy drawing. At first, when he had spotted Sam watching him draw, he would hide the papers quickly and look at Sam with terror. But Sam managed to convince Dean it was okay.
It was Dean's birthday. Sam spent ages in the mall, trying to figure out, what the best meal would be. He had no problems finding the right gift. He bought him a big box of coloured pencils. They had every colour possible and Sam knew Dean would love it. It would probably seem very childish to give a 30 year-old man a box of pencils, but Dean right now was mentally in a little boy's state, fragile like a delicate doll. And if being treated like a kid was supposed to help him, then Sam would do exactly that.
On his way home, Sam tried to think of the best way to tell Dean it was his birthday. Simple sentences like 'Happy birthday', 'I have a surprise for you' or 'This is your present' always meant something horrible in the past five years. He decided not to say anything, just let Dean enjoy the day.
When he got home, the house was perfectly clean. As in spotless. When Sam stepped into their room, Dean quickly hid into the safety of his private space. He eyed him warily with more fear than usually these days.
I guess that means he knows it's his birthday.
Sam had become quite a chef. He tried different meals every day to figure out what Dean liked and what he didn't, but it was hard, because Dean would always eat whatever Sam served, no matter what. But at least he ate with him by the table now.
Today's meal was lasagne. Sam did his best and he was satisfied with his creation. He put the food on two plates.
"Do you want to eat there or will you come to the table?" he asked Dean.
Dean blinked, but got up and sat by the table. He must have liked it very much, because he ate it all up in a record time. Sam just smiled and offered him another portion. Dean's eyes were wide open in shock. Then he pointed with a shaky finger to Sam's plate.
"No, I'm fine. This is all for you to eat." Sam smiled.
This time his smile was honest. He was happy to see Dean with a healthy appetite. He barely managed to hold back a chuckle, when Dean finished eating with an uff. Sam washed all the dishes. Dean was still at the table and he was reading a book. That surprised Sam, he didn't even know they had books. So he just put out of his bag a nice looking cherry pie, put a cream on top and laid it on the table in front of Dean. Dean immediately closed the book and looked at the pie. His mouth fell open and he looked up at Sam. Sam just smiled and nodded. So Dean pretty much assaulted the pie.
When he was half way done with it, he looked up to Sam, the question 'Why?' written all over his cherry-pie filling covered face. Sam took a deep breath and decided to take that risk.
"I wanted to do something nice for you, because...because today is your birthday, Dean," he tried.
Sometimes, when you take a risk, you lose. Dean froze with a spoonful of pie on its way to his mouth. His eyes were full of horror again. He pushed the pie away and ran to the safety of his bed, his arms around his knees. With his eyes wide open, he was staring into space, probably waiting for Sam to come and break him.
That was not what Sam wanted, not at all.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," he whispered. "I never meant to...I just...wanted your birthday to be happy." Sam was angry with himself. He should have known better. He blinked away the tears that were piling up in his eyes, took the gift he got for Dean and wordlessly placed it on Dean's line. Then he lay down on his own bed, pretending to be working on his laptop, but actually checking on Dean every other second.
Dean apparently decided after an hour or so, that the beating was not to come yet and very slowly and carefully, he picked up the box, placed it on his bed and opened it. Sam stopped pretending to watch the screen and held his breath.
Dean opened the box with shivering hands and gently traced his fingers along all the beautiful colours. When he looked at Sam, Sam's heart melted because of the light in Dean's eyes. His brother was so beautiful, when he was happy. He smiled back at him wholeheartedly and nodded.
And then Sam's heart did a backflip, because Dean did the most unexpected thing ever. He lifted his arms up towards Sam, just like children, when they're asking their parents to pick them up. It was Sam's turn to stare at Dean with a surprised wide-eyed gaze.
"Y-you want me to...to hold you?"
Dean didn't respond. Sam moved slowly, step by step, towards Dean, stopping right before the line. "But this is your private space, Dean. I won't go in, unless you're sure you want me to."
Again, nothing. Dean just kept piercing Sam with his eyes, his arms up and reaching for Sam. Sam took the tiniest step inside Dean's private space in the slowest way possible, so that he could watch Dean's reaction and go back immediately. But Dean didn't even flinch.
So Sam pretty much launched himself at Dean. He wrapped his arms around him and Dean hugged him back. He actually hugged him back! A strong feeling overwhelmed Sam, even though he couldn't even describe it, as he pressed his brother's body against his, until both of them could barely breathe. And neither let go even then.
Despite his desperate tries not to, Sam started to cry. They were happy tears, but he couldn't stop the flow or the shaking. He felt Dean's hand gently rubbing his back in comfort. This was all kinds of wrong, Dean wasn't supposed to be the comforting one, he shouldn't have to be! But Sam didn't pull away from the hug. He couldn't. He didn't want to.
They broke away from the hug after what felt like hours, even though it's been just mere minutes. Sam wiped away his tears and laughed softly, when Dean gave him a tissue. He gazed deeply into Sam's eyes and Sam knew that even if it took all the time in the world, it was worth it. He didn't even know he missed Dean's touch this 's eyes wandered to the table, or more likely to the rest of his pie on that and then he got out of his bed, taking Sam's hand and leading him to the chair. Sam sat down, completely stunned by the fact, that Dean was taking a lead. It felt like one of the walls keeping Dean in the private world of his mind just tumbled down.
Dean sat back to his place and split the leftover piece of cake in two halves. Then he grabbed a bite from one and handed the spoon over to Sam, waiting for his reaction. Sam wanted to tell him that it was his pie and that Sam had no intention of eating his birthday surprise, but something in Dean's eyes stopped him and made him grab the spoon and take a bite from the other half instead.
"This is your day, Dean, you shouldn't be giving gifts to me," he smiled, when he swallowed it.
Dean looked at him, directly into Sam's very soul and...smiled. For the first time. And that was when Sam knew, it was what Dean wanted all along. To give something to Sam. To give everything to Sam. They finished the pie, taking turns bite by bite, just enjoying the sudden pleasant change of air.
It seemed like Dean was trying to compensate for all the time he hadn't been able to touch Sam in a good way. Now he would cling onto his hand every minute possible. Sam even had to hold it to tug him to sleep these days and he wasn't allowed to move to his own bed, until Dean was sound asleep. But Sam didn't mind, he was happy like this, actually. Sure, the Dean he grew up with would never hold his hand during a movie, not even after they got beyond being just brothers, but Sam had always secretly wanted it, so he wasn't really complaining. Though still drawn on the carpet, the line didn't have a meaning anymore, because Dean wasn't afraid of Sam any longer. At least Sam dared to hope so.
They were watching Mr. Bean, just holding their hands and eating popcorn with the free ones. Sam's heart jumped happily, whenever Dean chuckled at the movie. Then Dean looked at Sam with hopeful eyes.
"What is it, Dean? Need anything?"
Dean didn't respond, he just pushed away the bowl of popcorn between them and let go of Sam's hand to wrap his around Sam's body. Sam's mouth opened in shock, because from the very first hug Dean never did anything other than just hands holding. Dean slowly raised his eyes, asking Sam if it was all right, asking him for permission. Sam smiled and nodded, wrapping his hands around Dean as well. Dean smiled and rested his head against Sam's chest. Sam kissed the top of his head, feeling Dean's body relaxing under his touch and almost absent-minded ran his fingers through Dean's hair.
He loved the feeling of Dean letting him back in again, but at the same time he was afraid he would do a wrong move and they would have to start all over again. He wished Dean would start talking again, he could barely recall his voice anymore. But if this time with Dean had taught him anything, it was how to be patient.
The next day Sam went to buy something for breakfast and when he came back, Dean was waiting for him by the door. At first Sam got scared, that something set Dean back, when he was waiting for Sam to return and give him orders, but he banished that thought when he saw Dean's smile lighting up his face. Dean covered Sam's eyes and led him to their room. When he removed his hands and Sam looked around, he gasped.
Dean had pushed his bed next to Sam's, leaving the space behind the line almost empty, except for a nightstand. Dean's eyes were happy, shining, beautifully green and filled with anticipation. Sam was amazed how Dean always seemed to know just how to sweep him off his feet.
Dean seemed satisfied with Sam's facial expression, because he looked...well yeah, proud of himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam was proud of himself too, for helping Dean to get this far, even though he didn't dare to think that 'too loud', because the guilt would silence his happy thoughts in an instant.
"Okay, I get it, you want a bigger bed," Sam grinned, "But where am I going to sleep? The couch?"
Dean frowned and pushed Sam onto his side of the double bed.
"All right, all right!" Sam laughed and spread his arms. "Come here, silly."
Dean was in his arms in a heartbeat. They were just lying there, holding each other, their eyes smiling. Sam took a deep breath.
"Dean? Will you...would you let me...k-kiss you?" he asked with a hopeful voice.
He felt Dean's hands let go and his breath hitch a little. His face darkened with a slight impression of fear and he clenched his fists, but closed his eyes and nodded.
Of course, Dean didn't know how to say no just yet, that was the first ability the other Sam took away from him. Sam just smiled sadly and placed a soft kiss on Dean's forehead –something Dean's been letting him do for a while now.
"Thank you. Now let's go have that breakfast, shall we?" Sam said when Dean opened his eyes in surprise.
Yeah, it was a big step and Dean wasn't ready for it yet.
Sam woke up first in the morning. Dean was snuggled under his chin, his warm breath tickling Sam's neck. He had to smile, because he was pretty sure he fell asleep just holding Dean's hand last night. He brushed his fingers gently along Dean's cheek, admiring the sight of his big brother sleeping peacefully. He really wished to stay like that until Dean woke up, but he needed to go to the bathroom. He untangled himself from Dean very carefully and got out of the bed.
It was the faintest whisper, but it stopped Sam's legs from going any further. The voice was so hoarse, it didn't even sound like Dean. Sam refused to turn around, too afraid to find out that Dean's still sleeping and the voice was just his imagination playing tricks with him.
That was enough evidence for Sam to turn around and see Dean sitting on the bed, his emerald eyes wide open, waiting for Sam to respond.
"D-Dean?" That was all Sam managed to get out of his non-functional mouth.
"Sam," Dean smiled slightly and nodded.
Sam still was unable to move from the shock, so Dean got up, walked over to him and handed him a piece of paper.
"Birthday," he stated with a smile.
Sam glanced quickly at a calendar and it really was his birthday today. He'd completely forgotten about them and even if he hadn't, he had no intention of celebrating it. Dean, however, seemed to disagree with that idea.
On the paper was a drawing. It was a portrait of Sam. It was perfect in every move and Sam was sure Dean had used every single colour to create this. It looked as real as a photo. But it wasn't the Sam he was used to see in the mirror. This was the Sam he would see, if he looked at himself through Dean's eyes. His features were softer, his lips more feminine than he would have described himself. And then there were those eyes...
They were simply mesmerizing. The hazel colour slightly turning green near the pupils and the thin gold ring around the edges... It seemed to Sam, that Dean loved his eyes just as much as Sam loved his and that made him feel warm inside.
"It's...I-I...I don't know..." Sam struggled to find the right words. Too many surprises at once.
"Happy?" Dean asked.
"Happiest," Sam said honestly. "It's beautiful Dean. More than that. I...I'm going to buy a frame tomorrow and put this above the bed."
Sam felt the tears in his eyes and he rolled his eyes on the inside for being such a girl about it. That's something the old Dean would laugh at him for. And the thought of that made his eyes even tearier.
To stop the thinking and the crying he pulled Dean to a bear hug. He felt Dean hugging him back and he couldn't remember having a better birthday so far. But he still needed to go to the bathroom and the need had become urgent now.
"Excuse me, for a moment?" he let go of Dean and ran towards the bathroom door.
When he came back, Dean was still standing there, where he had left him. His fists were clenched, he was breathing heavily and he was starting to sweat.
"Dean! Dean, what is it?" Sam rushed to his side.
Dean's mouth opened and then closed a few times. His eyes kept opening wide and shutting tight in the rhythm of his mouth. Then he looked at Sam, tears in his eyes.
"Sam," he cried out desperately.
Sam quickly hugged him and tried his best to comfort his brother.
"Shh, Dean, it's okay. Take a deep breath. Whatever this is, we will fix it, okay? Promise."
Dean started sobbing quietly and whispered into Sam's ear: "Speak. Sorry."
Then it finally hit Sam, Dean was trying to talk! But after all this time, his brain was probably not happy with that idea.
"Don't be sorry, Dean. It's a huge step, what you did today. We'll take it slow. It's going to be alright."
"Sam." Dean sounded relieved, even his sobbing stopped.
It really was slow. Dean didn't forget any words, but he was struggling with longer sentences. Most of them got reduced to a simple 'Sam' and the said learned how to understand his brother. But Dean was stubborn and they were making progress.
Sam soon found out that the words came out of Dean's mouth easiest, if he was singing his favourite songs. He was just at the front door checking the mail and Dean was in the kitchen doing dishes or something, singing cheerfully to Metallica, when his voice stopped, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
Sam ran to Dean immediately to find him frightened, in the middle of what used to be their popcorn bowl staring at something in their cutlery drawer.
"Dean? Are you alright? What's wrong?"
He tried to hug Dean to calm him down, but Dean only started shaking under his touch more, his body stiffened, just like it used to, when Dean first got back from the hospital. It stung Sam, but he stepped away from Dean anyway, trying to find out, what upset him so much.
Still shaking, Dean reached further into the drawer and pulled out a nasty looking knife. It was huge, sharp and shaped like a flame. It even had three points. Everything about it screamed pain.
"Y-you...k-kept it?" Dean said, turning to Sam with fearful eyes, obviously struggling to speak at all again.
"No! Dean, I swear, I thought they were all gone!" Sam threw his arms up defensively, mentally kicking his own ass for not getting rid of this knife as well.
"B-birthday knife..." Dean trailed off and a cold wave of horror rushed down Sam's spine. How did he not remember that one?!
"Dean," he tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "Listen to me, please. I didn't keep it, not on purpose. Today's Tuesday and on Thursday they always come to take away trash, so we'll just leave it here, no one will touch it and on Thursday, we'll watch it get taken away for good, how's that?"
He saw Dean fighting his own fear, but eventually he gave the knife to Sam, still fearfully watching every move Sam made.
Sam put the knife next to a waste bin. He wasn't sure what to do or say next to make Dean feel safer.
Dean just looked around to see all the glass from the bowl he dropped and he was back to being terrified. He shot at Sam one Pleasedonthurtme look and then quickly dropped on his knees, to gather the glass from the floor.
"Dean, don't," Sam yelled and tried to stop him, but as he touched him, Dean's fists clenched automatically. The glass cut his skin and soon the floor under them was covered in drops of blood.
Sam forced Dean to stand up, gently but firmly and put his hands into the sink, letting the water wash away the blood and carefully removing the bits of glass. He checked his palms. Only two or three cuts were deep, but there were too many of them and all were bleeding.
"Dean..." Sam whispered. "Stop doing this to yourself...please..."
When he cleaned the wounds and stopped most of the bleeding, he covered both Dean's hands in bandages. He tried to hurt Dean as little as possible, but he knew that at least the cleaning had to hurt. Dean never even hissed, though.
Sam led Dean to his bed, gently pushed him down and sat next to him. Dean finally met his gaze and whispered: "S-sorry...scared." A tear fell out of his eye as he spoke.
Sam couldn't stand seeing his brother like this, so he tugged him close and rocked him gently, whispering reassuring nothings into his ear, kissing his head every now and then, before he calmed Dean down enough to leave his side and clean the glass and the blood himself.
He managed to hide it, but it spooked him, how fragile and unstable Dean's condition still was.
After the knife accident, Dean's vocabulary pretty much narrowed to 'Yes, Thanks, Sam' and a few phrases. Sam didn't know what made him hide behind the wall again, especially now that the knife was gone and Sam made sure, there was nothing left behind this time. He still tried hard to get Dean to talk again and it worked partially, though it was exhausting. Dean didn't even sing anymore.
That one night Sam woke up, because Dean was next to him tossing and crying from his sleep.
"N-no! Sam, please, don't...I love you, I love you, NO!"
The last one he screamed so loud, he woke himself up. When he noticed Sam was awake and watching him, fear appeared in his eyes and his lips started to tremble.
"Dean," Sam tried to reach out for him, but Dean backed away from him, falling from his bed.
Sam got out of the bed quickly and hurried to see if Dean was okay, but he only crawled backwards behind his line. Seeing Dean using the safety of his private space, the utter fear in his eyes, made something in Sam snap.
"God dammit, Dean! What the hell are you doing? Why do you still think I'm going to start hurting you all over again? What do you want from me, huh? . !" he yelled in frustration.
Too late, has his rational part kicked in and stopped him. Too late, has he realized what he was doing. Now he had Dean crawled in the corner, wishing the wall would swallow him. He took a deep breath, shrugging the unwelcome wave of anger off and he wanted to hug Dean tightly and apologize and assure him, that everything was alright, but when he was about to cross the line, Dean stopped breathing and his eyes widened, watching him with horror and Pleasedontpleasedont pleads.
"I-I'm so sorry, Dean...I didn't mean...I'm sorry-" Sam heard his voice break and he managed to run into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind himself, before he slid them down. He put his face into his hands and started crying.
He's been the stronger brother for far too long now. He wasn't used to this. He didn't know what to do. It was Dean, who always had the answers. Sam missed his older brother so much it hurt. The Dean he had now was just a shell, a vessel of the Dean he craved so much to have again. And the only one to blame for that was Sam himself.
He tried to blame it on Azazel, on the asshole of a demon, that fed him his blood, when he was a baby and brought this all on him and Dean, but the truth is, Azazel didn't do anything more than just unleash the evil that was already in Sam.
But he loved, Dean! He could never understand why he would destroy the only thing in his life that mattered, evil or not.
He hated himself, because at this point, he felt like giving up. And he had no right to give up on Dean! He was the one who brought him to this state in the first place! This schizophrenia was killing him.
He didn't ever want to leave this bathroom again. He couldn't face terrified Dean, he couldn't deal with it all over again. They already have got this far and with one stupid burst out, Sam just erased it all and put them back to square one.
Sam was too weak. Too weak to save his own brother. He was so weak that he was crying on the bathroom floor instead of-
The quiet voice coming from the other side of the door in the level of Sam's head made the flow of his self-loathing thoughts stop for a moment.
"Did I...make you cry, Sam?"
Sam wiped away his tears angrily, taking a few breaths before answering.
"No, Dean, you didn't. I just...I need a minute, okay?" he tried to sound as calm as possible.
It was amazing how nothing Dean has ever been through could silence his big brother instincts. All Sam ever seemed to be was the cry baby little brother, that constantly needed saving.
"Are you..." Dean sighed on the other side "Are you hurting yourself, Sam?"
Sam froze and stared at the wall in front of him in shock.
Sam knew what Dean meant by that and he also knew that the only way Dean would think of that was if he-
Oh my god.
If he was doing it himself.
Sam felt his heart sinking deeper than ever. He quickly looked around and found one tile underneath the basin, that seemed pulled out a little. He never checked bathroom thoroughly, because that was not, where the weapons were hidden. And now he was mentally slapping himself for the reckless mistake.
"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded more scared and urgent now.
"I'm fine, Dean!"
Well, that was a lie. He was everything but fine. He dug out a small box from a hole behind the tile. It was dusty and looked like it hasn't seen the light of day for quite some time.
That's a good sign, right?
With trembling hands, Sam opened the box. He thought he was ready to see what's inside, but he wasn't.
There were some razors and small knives, all covered with drops of dried blood. Dean's blood. Sam leaned backwards and banged his head against the door.
Wasn't it enough, that Sam had tormented him? Did he have to suffer even more?
Why did you do this, Dean? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't I know?
As these thoughts were flowing through Sam's head, he noticed something gold in the mixture of silver and red. He took it out of the box. Twice so far has he felt as though he couldn't feel any worse and for the second time he was proven wrong.
What he held in his hand was the amulet he gave Dean, when he was eight. Sam felt like the air has been sucked out of his lungs.
"Sam!" Dean banged on the door. "Come out, please!"
Maybe it was the desperation in Dean's voice that made Sam do as he told him. He didn't want Dean to suffer anymore. He opened the door and slowly walked out. Dean's eyes fell on the box and his face went pale. He looked scared, but this time he wasn't scared of Sam. He was just worried.
"Is-is this...yours?" Sam asked, failing to keep his voice from shaking.
Dean nodded, taking the box out of Sam's hands gently and putting it as far away as possible.
"Thursday," he said with a soft smile.
Sam looked at him, then at the box, then at the amulet he's been clutching in his other hand and then back to Dean. He wanted to beg Dean not to use it anymore, he wanted to reassure him, he's never going to have to, because Sam won't let anything hurt him anymore. He needed Dean to promise him that he's over it. He wanted Dean to finally forgive him.
All these emotions running through his head and in the end, when he opened his mouth to say something, to break the terrible silence, he started crying again. He cried, because everything seemed so wrong, so screwed up, so irreparable. Dean seemed irreparable. And it was all Sam's fault and he hated it.
Sam felt his kneed buckle, but he never fell down. He felt Dean catching him and leading him towards their beds. He couldn't see through his teary eyes and his mind was screaming at him, so he couldn't hear either, but he could feel. He felt Dean's hands gently pushing him down, until he was laying there. He felt Dean's body pressing against his back, one of his arms wrapped tightly around Sam's waist, the other stroking his hair.
Dean was probably trying to soothe him with words too, but the love and the protection that poured from Dean to Sam was breaking every wall Sam had ever made to keep himself strong, like they never existed. Dean was still the big brother, taking care of Sammy, no matter what. Sam should have never doubted that.
Sam got to the point, where he was crying because he was crying. It made no sense, he felt like a ten-year-old, and he hated himself. Every inch of him screamed to get up, to stop taking whatever Dean was giving, because he had no right to. He had to be there for Dean and he should have never broken down like this. Yet all he did was just lying there, letting Dean soothe him and hoping they would never have to get up again.
"It's okay, Sammy," he heard Dean whisper.
He called me Sammy.
Another wave of tears –oh my fucking God, will I ever run dry? – Another wave of self-loathing.
"Shh...I'll be stronger...I promise," Dean kept whispering.
That made Sam turn around to face Dean. He looked deep into his eyes.
"You already are, Dean. Always have been." He whispered back before snuggling to Dean's chest, soaking his t-shirt wet, letting the scent, the warmth and the voice lull him to sleep, holding Dean just as tight as Dean held him.
After the incident, things were getting slowly, but steadily, better between Sam and Dean. They were laughing, joking, Dean didn't seem so clingy anymore, even though they still held hands or hugged more than before.
Dean even let Sam kiss him. Actually, he kissed him. It was one of those beautiful mornings and Sam knew he would never forget how it felt, to finally be able to kiss those full lips and to taste his big brother again. It felt almost like the very first time.
But still it felt like Dean was one push away, just one more wall to break down, before he was fully back. Sam knew he was probably being selfish, but he was also sure, that Dean wanted to get better. Sam just couldn't figure out what the last step should be. But he was determined to try everything.
That's how he came upon the idea to take Dean outside. Dean hasn't stepped out of their house ever since they got back from the hospital, so Sam thought, maybe it was about time Dean had seen the outside world too.
When he told Dean about the idea, he said yes. Later, when he was thinking about it, Sam remembered the scared look on his brother's face and too late has it occurred to Sam, that maybe Dean didn't really want to go, maybe he wasn't ready yet, but 'no' was something, he just never said to Sam.
Sam decided they would just go downtown to a mall to get groceries, nothing big. So they went. Dean's first step out of the house was hesitant, but he seemed amazed by everything. The sun, the flowers, birds, noises, smells... Sam took him by the hand and led him carefully, because Dean was too distracted to actually watch his steps.
When they got to the mall, the parking lot was full and people kept coming in and out of the store. Dean froze. With fearful eyes, he was watching the people and he even started shaking. Sam squeezed his hand gently.
"Do you want to wait here for me, Dean?"
Dean swallowed and nodded.
"Okay, I'll be right back," Sam smiled, kissed Dean's cheek and went shopping.
When he came back with a bag full of food, he saw Dean backed into a wall by a couple of douchebags, who were apparently insulting him, laughing at him and one of them even poked Dean in his ribs. Dean just stood there with a pained and scared expression, his eyes shut and his fists clenched, but he did nothing to defend himself.
Sam saw red. He dropped the bag and threw himself on one of the boys.
"Leave him alone, you hear me!?"
He shouted and twisted the boy's arm behind his back. The other douche managed to run away.
"What are you doing to my son?!" Sam heard a woman yelling. And a short, red-haired and extremely pissed off woman did really run towards them.
Sam let go of her son, but hissed with rage.
"This man," he said slowly, pointing at Dean, who slid down the wall, looking somewhere into space with terror in his eyes and breathing heavily, "was held captive, he was tortured and he has a hard time getting used to normal life again and your son just ruined every progress we've made!"
The angry gaze of the woman turned from Sam to her son.
"M-mom...mom, I swear I didn't know-"
Sam stopped listening to them, because Dean grabbed his hand and clutched it tightly. Sam kneeled down beside him. Dean looked at him and Sam could have sworn his eyes were yelling 'Save me!' at him.
"Shh, it's okay, Dean, I'm here now, I'll protect you," Sam whispered soothingly, while hugging Dean tight and kissing the top of his head.
This was different. Back at their home, when Dean was scared like this, he was afraid of Sam. But here, it was him and Sam against the world. Dean was silently begging for Sam's help and Sam wasn't going to let his brother down.
"Let's go get that bag and we're out of here, okay?"
Back in their bedroom, Dean was still shaking, so Sam just held him close and whispered reassurances into his ear, hoping it would calm Dean down. He was kicking himself once again, because even though he had been sure Dean was ready for the outside world, he forgot about the outside world's people. People are cruel.
Even though he would give anything to save Dean from this experience, Sam couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction that took over him, when he realized, that Dean was now clinging to him, when he was scared. Maybe seeing Sam fighting for him helped, but either way, Sam was glad.
There was a knock on the door. Sam sat now a calmer Dean on the bed and went to answer. He frowned, when he saw the mother with her son from the incident by the mall standing outside.
"What do you want here?"
"We're very sorry to bother you, sir, Ian here wanted to apologize to your...to the other man for his behaviour," the woman said, nudging her son, who stood there awkwardly, looking down with a flower bouquet in his hands.
Still frowning, but convinced Sam let them both in. Dean tensed up and his eyes filled with fear again, when he saw Ian and he looked at Sam. The younger Winchester took a step towards Dean.
"It's okay, Dean. This is Ian," he said pointing at him. The boy looked as though he was about to cry and Sam just couldn't hate him anymore.
"I-I wanted to-to say I'm...," the boy said quietly and started sobbing, "I'm v-very s-orry..."he couldn't finish his sentence and instead he wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, hugged him and cried. Dean wasn't scared anymore, now he was just shocked. He put his arms around the boy's back hesitantly.
"S'Okay...I'm not angry...Don't cry..."
Dean was looking so cute, when he was confused with Ian crying in his arms, that it made Sam smile.
"Ian's father...my husband...he was a prisoner in Iraq. They said he died due to the torture they put him through...," the woman's eyes were filled with water and Sam looked at her sympathetically.
"Was he a war prisoner too?"
"Nope, his case is worse...it was someone close to him...I'm glad I got to him in time to save him," Sam felt his own tears in his eyes. What he'd just said wasn't entirely a lie, but then again, it wasn't the truth either.
"Oh, god...he's lucky to have you, you know? I believe it's hard, on both of you, but trust me, I would take the struggle and double it, if I could have Nathan back..." she trailed off, obviously trying to blink away the tears.
Sam squeezed her shoulder.
"It's worth it. Seeing the light return to his eyes, watching him learn to smile, to be happy again...it's worth it."
Sam used to talk to a psychiatrist about Dean's condition. It was one of the terms, on which they let him take Dean home. The doctor was giving Sam advices on how to and how not to handle Dean's current situation. At first he wanted to visit Dean every once in a while, but Sam wouldn't let him. He knew Dean better than anyone and he knew letting some stranger in wouldn't help Dean at all.
He was talking to Dr. Shoerling again, telling him about Dean's first day out and why it didn't work out as well as Sam hoped. Then he told him that though Dean seemed fine, he still wouldn't fully recover.
Dr. Shoerling said, that Dean's behaviour indicates, that his mind still sees some kind of a threat and doesn't allow him out of the state he's in. He suggested that moving from the house might be a good idea, because it might be still reminding Dean of all the terrors he went through there.
Sam thanked him for the advice, said he'd consider it and hung up.
He wished, oh how he wished it was the house. Moving out would be easy. They probably wouldn't find a place in this town, but they would find it somewhere. But Sam knew the house wasn't what was keeping Dean in the safe zone. It was Sam.
He couldn't just march out of Dean's life, not now, not ever. It was breaking his heart in ways he didn't think possible. But he knew he had to, at least temporarily, until Dean gets better and then, maybe they could find a way to be Sam'n'Dean again. But he had to be careful here, because leaving Dean the wrong way might just do more damage than benefit.
He looked over at his brother, who was watching TV and drinking bear. He looked so much like the old Dean it stung Sam. The ache in his chest was increasing and then Dean caught Sam's gaze.
"Is anything wrong, Sam?"
God, I can't do this.
Sam took a deep breath.
"Dean, I...I'm going to leave. For a while. I will be back, I promise. You just...need some time alone. It'll be good for you, really."
Sam was babbling and he knew it, the betrayed look in Dean's eyes was just too much for him to take. He wasn't doing this to hurt Dean and he didn't take any pleasure in leaving.
"W-what did I...do?" Dean asked finally, when Sam's litany was over and he started packing. Quick, before he changes his mind.
"Nothing, Dean. Nothing, I swear! This isn't a punishment," Sam kept his voice surprisingly steady considering the way he was falling apart inside.
Dean just bowed his head, looking so extremely hurt.
There it was. The bag was all packed. He would call the doctor and tell him to check upon Dean. And Ian's mother maybe. He wouldn't be far himself. Dean was going to be alright. Better than that.
Dean was still sitting on the floor, but now he stood up, tears running down his face.
Sam allowed himself to hug Dean tightly, even though he knew it would just make the goodbye harder. But he couldn't just leave him like this.
"Don't cry, Dean...please...," he whispered soothingly.
"I'm not leaving for good, I will be back sooner than you know, believe me.
Sam had to close his eyes shut to prevent his own tears from falling. He kissed Dean's forehead and let go of him, turned around and walked towards the door.
He stopped for a moment with his hand on the door-knob. He wanted to look at Dean one last time, but he was scared of what would he see. He decided not to.
"Take care of yourself, Dean. Goodbye."
Did he just say no to me?
Sam turned around. Dean was looking down, clenching his fists, but he wasn't shaking nor did he look scared.
"Dean...," Sam started.
"No," Dean said again and raised his eyes. There were little flames of determination in them.
"I'm not leaving because of you, I'm doing it for you!" Sam almost yelled in frustration.
Dean was putting one hell of a fight. And Sam didn't even want to win. He turned around quickly to hide his tears from Dean and to escape, before Dean won.
"Don't," Dean pleaded one last time. "Please," a barely audible whisper.
Sam knew this was it. Dean wouldn't push anymore and if Sam just opened the door and left, he wouldn't be stopping him.
So why wasn't he leaving? Why did he turn around and took those few steps that were separating him from Dean? He couldn't give in, he was taking the chance of recovering from Dean!
But he already said no to me, how better could he get?
Try back to who he was before.
I can't leave him, he needs me. I need him!
Selfish little Sammy...always putting yourself before Dean.
The look Dean gave him, when he looked up to see Sam's tear stained face in front of him silenced every doubt, though.
"Y-you're staying?" Dean asked in a hopeful voice.
"I'm staying," Sam nodded.
Dean's face lit up with a thousand-watt smile and he pulled Sam to the tightest hug ever.
Sam hugged him back.
"I never wanted to leave...not really...I'm so sorry, Dean...I thought I was doing the right thing-"
Dean silenced him with a kiss. Sam could feel the happiness radiating from Dean and he couldn't help but feel a little happy too.
The next morning Sam was just making breakfast, when he felt familiar hands wrap around his waist and well-known lips kiss the back of his neck. It surprised him, because Dean didn't do that anymore and even back then, when he did, it was on very special occasions.
"Morning Sammy," Dean murmured into Sam's neck.
"Morning?" Sam turned around with raised eyebrows. Something was different.
"I had this dream..." Dean trailed off and his eyes clouded at the memory.
"Tell me about it?" Sam asked as he put the pancakes on the table and sat down.
"There was mom," Dean gave him a little smile, but kept his eyes on his hands and Sam had a feeling this would be important.
"She was in this garden, dressed all in white, she was beautiful. I came to her and she smiled at me and said: 'I'm so proud of you, you've been a very brave boy. I'm sorry for everything that happened to you.'
I told her not to be, it wasn't her fault, but she just shook her head and took mine into her hands and told me: 'You need to be there for Sammy now, can you do that, Dean? He needs you. He needs forgiveness.'
'But I already forgave him,' I said.
'I know,' she smiled, 'but he didn't forgive himself.'
'Of course, I'll be there for him, mom, you know I will.'
'You are our little angel,' she said with tears in her eyes and kissed me on the forehead. 'I love you, Dean,' she said and then there was this white light and I think it healed me somehow, you know? Mom healed me. Something clicked in my brain...Sam, I-I think I'm back now," Dean finished and finally looked up at Sam to see tears running down his face.
Dean got up quickly and kneeled before Sam, holding him close.
I think I'm back, Sammy.
That was what did it for Sam. Dean was back. It was over. He had his big brother back, so he no longer had to be the stronger one and he was free to cry. He cried, because he was happy, of course.
I already forgave him.
He cried, because he was touched by how big Dean's heart was as well.
He didn't forgive himself.
And he probably never will. He was crying out all the emotions he was trying to bottle up from the very beginning.
He buried his face into the crook of Dean's neck and cried.
"Sorry...sorry...sorry, I am so, so sorry..." he kept whispering into Dean's neck like a mantra and Dean kept whispering: "Shh, it's okay, Sammy...everything's okay now..." back.
When Sam's tears have run dry, they kissed for a long while. Then they walked out of their door, smiling, hand in hand, towards their new future together.