Dean needs Sam right now, to be normal and dependable and strong, to be there the way Castiel was so abruptly not. What he doesn't need is for Sam to turn around and tell him he's been dreaming of Lucifer, waking in the night feeling chilled to the bone, his mind thick with the unacceptable urge to heave himself out of his own bed and into his brother's just for the sake of the shared body heat. Dean doesn't need to hear that right now, and there's nothing Dean could do about it, anyhow. They're only dreams. They don't mean anything. Sam's wall is gone, fallen, and things aren't about to get any worse than they've gotten. If this is rock bottom, Sam thinks, it's a hell of a lot better than some of the potential scenarios he'd dared to contemplate from time to time, in his dark nights of the soul after he'd first gotten the damn thing back. Things can only improve from here, and in the meantime, he doesn't intend to put any more weight upon Dean than is necessary.
Oh Sam....my heart is breaking. And those lines, it is SO THEM.
( ... )
I'm going to have to agree with killabeez and tack on some things. Such as, I would like to marry those three paragraphs and all the fantastical (yes, I made it up...it suits this) descriptions throughout your part one.
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*reads on fervently*
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Oh Sam....my heart is breaking. And those lines, it is SO THEM. ( ... )
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Enough of my genuflecting, until part two.
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