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She might only be sleeping in Dean’s arms, the way she probably had so many times before, but Sam can see the blood on his brother’s hands.
How, Sammy, Dean asks, voice like grinding glass. How am I supposed to …
Sam leans down, lifts her gently from Dean’s arms, and Dean lets him take her. He almost seems grateful.
The blaze of fire lights the sky. Sam doesn’t look at it; he feels thin and fragile and he owes Dean that much. Dawn is rising when they reach the Impala, and Dean stares across the front wheels at Sam like he’s noticing him for the first time.
How, he asks again, only just remembering to finish the thought, Sammy, how did you do this? His eyes are searching and alone, desperate. Sam recognizes that look from the mirror after another fire, after Jess.
Sam lets his eyes rake over the car before bringing them back to Dean’s; he doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to see that much pain, but he owes it to Dean, at least that much. He just tells the truth, because they’re far past sidestepping and sugar-coating now. The truth is naked, and raw, and full of strings attached, but it’s true, and it’s all Sam remembers from then.
I had you.
Dean blinks, and his eyes fill with tears, because nothing hurts like the truth.
I know it doesn’t feel like enough - but it was. I had you. And you have me. Dean nods, and Sam hopes that was also the truth.
He owes Dean at least that much.
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I'm really, really glad it didn't happen this way. I mean ... gah, Dean. At this point it almost seems like a toss-up which is worse, to be cursed so all your women die à la Sam and Bobby and John, or to have them live and to have to lose them anyway. :(:(
Deeean! Sammeh!
*iz broken*
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