How the Winchesters got their groove back: the commentfic meme you totally knew you wanted
BECAUSE SAM AND DEAN STILL LOVE EACH OTHER (OR ARE INTELLECTUALLY FOND OF EACH OTHER, SAM WINCHESTER I’M LOOKIN AT YOU) AND I STILL LOVE THEM.
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But now, with the Alpha in the back seat, her arms tied behind her back with silver chains, Dean is sort of dreading getting to the crossroads. He glances at the passenger seat and sees Sam using a dagger to clean under his nails. Sam isn’t nervous, of course. Sam isn’t anything.
The thing is, Dean doesn’t know how Sam’s going to react when he gets his soul back. Is he going to be angry, and try to rip Crowley’s throat out? Will he be happy to be back, or sad because being numb was easy and being human is fucking challenging? Knowing Sam, he’ll probably be guilty, too, remembering all the innocent people he’s hurt ‘in the line of duty.’ Sam takes stuff like that personally.
It’s the uncertainty that freaking Dean out. Selfishly, it’s mostly about how Sam is going to react to him. Dean hasn’t been exactly compassionate about this whole soulless thing, and he’s done stuff he’s not proud of. Dean remembers all too well the feeling of his knuckles crushing Sam’s nose; even Cas had been surprised at the amount of damage Dean had done. Dean still feels like he has his brother’s blood on his hands. The thing he’s most of afraid of is that Sam will get his soul back, and still not trust Dean.
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They summon Crowley, though Dean’s hands are shaking, and he makes the Alpha disappear with a snap of his fingers. The demon talks a lot, his voice as full of sarcasm and smarm as usual, but Dean can barely make out his words, let alone muster up the energy to get mad. He waits in silence, letting Sam do the talking for once, until Crowley raises one hand and closes his eyes.
Sam starts screaming, and Dean rushes to his side, grabbing Sam’s jacket and grunting under Sam’s weight as his brother collapses against his shoulder.
“What the fuck is happening to him?” Dean demands, but Crowley is already gone.
Dean curses, and by the time he’s done Sam has stopped screaming.
“Sam?” Dean says. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Dean thinks the anticipation may actually be killing him.
The only answer Dean gets is silence. He wraps his arm more firmly around Sam, and shifts to look down at his brother’s face. Sam is asleep with his head on Dean’s shoulder; there’s already a line of drool threatening to drip onto Dean’s jacket. His breathing is deep and his face is more peaceful than Dean’s seen it since Sam was a little kid.
Well, Dean thinks as he tries to figure out how he’s going to get huge, sleeping Sam back to the car, I guess he must trust me, after all.
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