He could still hear the vicious words echoing in his mind, see the sharp flash of pain in Dean's eyes before the shutters were firmly back in place. The taste of venom was sharp on his tongue and the silence in the car was deafening.
Sam twisted his hands in his lap, pinching at the skin between his thumb and first finger. It was a tiny pain, but the only thing he could allow himself at the moment. Nothing like the hurt he'd inflicted on his brother just a few short hours ago.
He glanced to the side, traced the edges of Dean's profile with his eyes. He saw the moment Dean felt him staring, caught the tightening of Dean's jaw as his teeth clenched.
Sam sighed and looked away, staring at the world that rushed by outside his window. It was a bright, sunny day, so different from the darkness that was eating him up inside.
He'd never felt as dark, as dirty, as tainted as he had when he spat out those words like weapons and watched as his brother shut down in front of him.
How exactly was he supposed to ask for forgiveness? How could he ask for something he didn't believe in himself?
Forgiveness. Absolution. Cleansing.
Dean had been forgiven. He did time in Hell, only to return a different man. Absolved. Cleansed. His sins washed away like the scars that once littered his skin.
Sam could feel the weight of his own scars, each one a reminder of who he was. What he is.
He was going to send Lilith back to Hell. And after that...
Sam watched Dean drive, his face carefully blank. His left hand was curled lightly around the wheel, the right resting on the seat between them.
Sam longed to close the distance between them. He wanted to say he was sorry. He had meant what he said but he regretted the way he said it. Dean deserved better. He deserved a brother who could say 'I miss you' and 'I need you by my side.' Not 'you're weak.' Dean deserved a brother like the one he missed, the one Sam wasn't sure he could ever be again.
He wanted to say sorry, but he couldn't trust his words. Not anymore.
Sam reached out and rested his hand on top of Dean's, didn't pull back when Dean flinched. He tried to put all his words into the simple touch.
I love you. You're exactly what I want, too. You're not wrong.
Dean exhaled slowly and flipped his hand over, pressing his palm against Sam's as he threaded their fingers together. Sam's chest felt tight at the gesture. He could feel his heart as it thudded against his chest, sure he could hear it echo in the silence of the car.
Dean squeezed his hand and Sam felt his eyes begin to water.
It wasn't forgiveness. He couldn't ask for that yet. But it was a start.
Sam twisted his hands in his lap, pinching at the skin between his thumb and first finger. It was a tiny pain, but the only thing he could allow himself at the moment. Nothing like the hurt he'd inflicted on his brother just a few short hours ago.
He glanced to the side, traced the edges of Dean's profile with his eyes. He saw the moment Dean felt him staring, caught the tightening of Dean's jaw as his teeth clenched.
Sam sighed and looked away, staring at the world that rushed by outside his window. It was a bright, sunny day, so different from the darkness that was eating him up inside.
He'd never felt as dark, as dirty, as tainted as he had when he spat out those words like weapons and watched as his brother shut down in front of him.
How exactly was he supposed to ask for forgiveness? How could he ask for something he didn't believe in himself?
Forgiveness. Absolution. Cleansing.
Dean had been forgiven. He did time in Hell, only to return a different man. Absolved. Cleansed. His sins washed away like the scars that once littered his skin.
Sam could feel the weight of his own scars, each one a reminder of who he was. What he is.
He was going to send Lilith back to Hell. And after that...
Sam watched Dean drive, his face carefully blank. His left hand was curled lightly around the wheel, the right resting on the seat between them.
Sam longed to close the distance between them. He wanted to say he was sorry. He had meant what he said but he regretted the way he said it. Dean deserved better. He deserved a brother who could say 'I miss you' and 'I need you by my side.' Not 'you're weak.' Dean deserved a brother like the one he missed, the one Sam wasn't sure he could ever be again.
He wanted to say sorry, but he couldn't trust his words. Not anymore.
Sam reached out and rested his hand on top of Dean's, didn't pull back when Dean flinched. He tried to put all his words into the simple touch.
I love you. You're exactly what I want, too. You're not wrong.
Dean exhaled slowly and flipped his hand over, pressing his palm against Sam's as he threaded their fingers together. Sam's chest felt tight at the gesture. He could feel his heart as it thudded against his chest, sure he could hear it echo in the silence of the car.
Dean squeezed his hand and Sam felt his eyes begin to water.
It wasn't forgiveness. He couldn't ask for that yet. But it was a start.
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I need an &fourleafclover; because I'm so lucky. Thanks, hon!
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