You Gave Me a Name, You Defined My Purpose, 1/1, PG-13, Gen, Post 5x22
Okay, so here's my reaction to the episode. Not entirely sure if I'm happy with it. Hrm.
Title: You Gave Me A Name, You Defined My Purpose
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post 5x22
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: #199 - Myxophobia for tamingthemuse
Summary: Dean doesn't handle being brotherless very well, and he doesn't do it for very long. He can't.
Wordcount: 2,793
A/N: Not sure the quoted text from the episode, particularly the spell, is right. If it's not, oh well; y'all don't mind, right?
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It smacked him in the face at least three times a day, now. The fact that Sam was gone.
It started when he'd taken Ben to one of his games. The kid was good, and Dean had to give him that. The problem was that he did soccer. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did, because all Dean could see was another kid in his head, one with floppy hair and a stupid grin on his face because his big brother had taken him to the game. The beaming smile on Sam's face when his team had won a championship, Dean didn't even remember. All he remembered was the look on his little brother's face when Sam had showed him the trophy.
Dean hadn't stuck around for any of Ben's games, after that. It was too hard.
He'd wandered to the parks nearby at first, but there'd been a memory associated with each one. He'd walked downtown after that; small town had a historical section, and even that had been hard because all he'd heard was Sam yammering about some random factoid like he always did. All he'd seen was Sam's eyes lighting up at all the history.
But lately, it wasn't as subtle as those things. Lately, it wasn't things or places.
Lately, it was about family.
There was a teenage girl in front of him at the grocery store, right now. She was half talking to her mom, wandering through the aisles and snagging things from the shelves to help. Her mom was pushing the cart and on the back of the cart was a small boy. Didn't look anything like Sam; if anything, he looked more like Dean had as a child. Short blonde hair, freckles, gleam in his eyes that spelled trouble. Couldn't have been very old, maybe five.
Something caught his eye and he was jumping off before the cart was really stopped. “James!” his mom called, then turned to the girl. “Katie-”
“Wanna juice,” James said as his sister came around. “Please?”
Katie rolled her eyes in a teenage fashion but took hold of his hand and headed towards the juice section that had caught his eye. “I got him,” she tossed over his shoulder, before she leaned down and whispered something to her brother. He giggled a moment later, and two seconds after that they were racing for the juice aisle.
“She's a good big sister,” an elderly woman commented to the mom, and the mom smiled proudly and started talking about how Katie loved her little brother, how Katie was such a big help, how James always looked up to his older sibling, and Dean couldn't do it. He left the cart with the rib-eye Lisa had wanted him to pick up in the middle of the aisle and turned away. It took all his concentration to get back to the car (Lisa's, not Dean's, because Dean couldn't even fathom looking at the Impala anymore without Sam) and as soon as he did he buried his face in his hands and fought to breathe.
He wasn't a big brother anymore. He wasn't anyone's brother. Sam was gone, and not just dead but gone. There wasn't even a body he could visit, an urn he could keep nearby. All he had were Sam's things and memories.
But he was brotherless and Lisa didn't get it. She'd been an only child, Ben the same. Neither of them got it, even though they tried. They understood that he and Sam had been 'close'. That was the word they used. 'Close'. It didn't even come close to explaining the bond they'd shared. The heartache Dean felt each day, how much it was killing him to keep his promise to Sam. How much he wished his brother would just appear out of midair and be there, talking about random things like the differences between the three types of gas you could get at the pump, or myxophobia because he couldn't say 'fear of slime' like normal people did-
He hadn't realized he'd started crying until his hands were wet, and at that point he couldn't stop. He found himself tipping over onto the passenger seat, where Sam should've been if this was the Impala, and he gasped shuddering breaths and fought to keep from outright sobbing.
It took fifteen minutes of fighting until he was calm enough to see. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror and saw red, swollen eyes. A moment later and he was back in Stull Cemetery, his entire face bloody and swelling, and Sam right in front of him, smiling a real smile as he promised it was okay. Smiling as he closed his eyes and fell back into the abyss he wasn't ever going to come out of.
And he couldn't do it. He'd been there for two weeks now, trying to fit himself into Lisa and Ben's lives, and he just couldn't do it. “Sorry Sammy,” he whispered to the empty car. “But I have to.”
It didn't take long to pack. He'd barely pulled a few things out; didn't have that much to start with. He was packed and ready to go within ten minutes (not a personal best, but considering how hard his hands were shaking, he thought he'd done pretty good) and downstairs. Lisa and Ben were gone, out to do whatever they usually did. They had routines, things they did with their lives.
Dean had a routine too, and it involved Sam.
He left a note and headed to the Impala for the first time in weeks. She was a little dusty already, but when he slid inside it smelled and felt like home. He deliberately avoided looking in the back at the little green army man. He kept his eyes away from the tear in the passenger seat from when Sam had gripped so hard, bleeding badly from a hunt. There were wrappers floating around the floor and they were all Sam's favorites. They'd done a lot of favorites the last few days before-
And Dean closed his eyes, backed the car out of the driveway, and drove as best he could through burning eyes.
Forty minutes outside of town, Dean figured calling Bobby would be a smart thing to do. Not that Bobby would be able to stop him, but...he didn't really know what. He dialed anyways.
“Good to hear from you, Dean,” Bobby said, picked up after the first three rings. “I was about to call you, actually.”
“I'm heading for Lawrence,” Dean blurted out. He had no idea where it had come from and it was a stupid suicide mission but god help him, he couldn't look at siblings anymore, couldn't look at kids or soccer fields or a freakin' motel without thinking about Sam, and he wasn't going to spend another day like it.
Bobby's silence was stunned, and not in a good way. “You stupid sonuvabitch, you can't be serious-”
“I can't leave him down there, Bobby,” he said, and goddammit he couldn't stop the sob from rising. “I can't, I just can't. I have to get him out.”
“You're gonna set Lucifer free, and for what?”
“For-”
“Obviously for Sam, don't take that tone with me,” Bobby warned as soon as Dean began speaking. Dean swallowed back the anger. “Dean, you can't-”
Dean shook his head like Bobby could see him. “I can and I will. I have the rings still, and I know the incantation.” It was burned into his brain; he swore if he opened his mouth sometimes it would come reeling off, the worst words ever spoken by any man alive. Words that had saved the world and condemned his self-sacrificing stupid little brother. His understanding, too stubborn for his own good, little brother.
“Dean just listen to me for a minute, Sam's-”
“Gone, I know, but I'm getting him back. And at this point, I don't even care if Lucifer gets back out.” He did, it was a lie, but the ache in his chest was too much. He couldn't do it without Sam. God, how had the kid survived for four months without him? Granted, he hadn't been very Sam-like when Dean had gotten back: he'd told Dean once that the Sammy part of him had died when Dean had.
Dean could definitely feel the brother part of him dying with each day as the shock began to fade away. He couldn't let it die. He couldn't let Sammy die.
“Dean-”
“I'm sorry, but really, I'm not,” Dean said simply, then closed the phone and tossed it into the seat. It began ringing half a minute later, as expected, but Dean ignored it. Ignored it for the next forty minutes as it rang and rang and rang.
The night passed by in a blur, reminding Dean of a million different nights where he and Sam had driven together. Most of the nights, Sam had fallen asleep against the window, and if Dean looked now, he could almost imagine seeing Sam there beside him. He kept his gaze locked on the road ahead of him. Pretended that Sam was next to him, sleeping quietly. By the time the sun rose Sam would be up, trying to stretch in a car too small for his frame, poking Dean about a breakfast he'd pick at because he was a bitch like that, and the urge to pull over and cry some more was almost overwhelming.
He kept driving.
When he finally spotted the gates, something inside of him twisted viciously. It didn't look any better at night, and even from the entrance he could see the spot where...
He slammed the car into park and moved swiftly for the back. God knew if Bobby had contacted Castiel, told him to stop Dean. He wasn't going to have much time; no way would they let him do this. And the Dean of twenty-four hours ago wouldn't have let him do this, either, even as he dug for the rings.
Then again, the Dean of twenty-four hours ago hadn't had his heart broken just one time too many. Hadn't seen a young boy asking for juice and punching Dean in his emotional gut, reminding him of another small boy who would ask for juice and s'gabettios, Lucky Charms and salads, a night in versus a night out, beer over Jack, hot chocolate over coffee, stripes versus plaid, hugs any time he could get them, and a soft smile before he tumbled over the edge, probably thinking he'd repaid the world for his mistake when really the world owed him so much more than this.
Dean was brotherless, without a sibling, lost and cut adrift. Having Lucifer around was better than this, and maybe Michael and Lucifer had hashed out their brother issues by now. Maybe it was safe for Sam to come out.
He was insane. He knew it; letting Lucifer out was the second biggest mistake of his life, and all year long he'd nudged subtly and not so subtly at Sam about his having released Satan. For him to do it now was impaired judgment. Stupidity. He'd never be forgiven by Heaven, cast out.
But the biggest mistake Dean had ever done was promise Sam that he'd let him go.
His hands were trembling around the rings as he all but ran over to the place where he'd last seen Sam. The rings fell to the ground from hands suddenly slippery, and Dean stayed right above them, his hand stretched towards them. He was going to fall in, a rational part of his mind told him, but Dean wasn't rational anymore. Dean needed his brother out, because oh god, Sam was in Hell, Sam was being tortured on the same racks Dean had been on, and no, not Sammy, not when he'd saved the world, not when he'd beaten the devil-
Dean began to chant, his voice shaking. “Bar ra esh ta...”
The ground shook a little beneath his feet, making him pause. It took three breaths before he could start again. “Bar ra esh-”
Sam invaded his mind again. He could see the kid looking at him as they'd sat outside and had one last beer together, neither knowing it'd be the last. The look of surprise and gratitude on his face when Dean had said he'd play it Sam's way. If this was what Sam really wanted.
“No,” Sam had said. “It isn't. But I have to.”
He swallowed hard and reached out his hand again. “Bar ra esh ta...”
Sam's earnest look flooded his mind. Castiel asleep behind them, Bobby trailing them in his van. “Promise me,” Sam had asked of him. “Promise you won't do something stupid to bring me back.”
Dean's voice tripped and fumbled over the words, forcing him to start again. “Bar ra esh...”
“Apple-pie, normal life,” Sam had said. “Promise me, Dean.”
He'd promised. Dean wiped a hand over his wet eyes, feeling more tears returning. He couldn't do this. “Bar ra-”
God but he could almost hear Sam yelling at him now. You stupid moron, he'd say. Don't do this for me. You know better. This is what got us here in the first place: let me go, Dean. Dean, just let me go, Dean. His brother kept saying his name over and over again.
Dean didn't want to be brotherless. “Bar ra...bar ra esh...bar ra-”
But he couldn't do this either. To break the last promise he made his brother, to let Lucifer back out just so he could selfishly have a brother and not look at little kids and cry and feel his heart being ripped in two-
He couldn't.
He let his hand fall and shut his eyes, tears streaming down his face. “Sammy,” he choked out. The rings were right where they'd been before, almost glaring at him and accusing him, daring him to say the words that would let Sam out, but Lucifer with him. “Sammy,” Dean whispered.
He could've sworn he could hear Sam's voice calling him. It was louder now, more incessant, and maybe Sam was here somehow. Maybe Sam was nearby, maybe Sam could be heard through the earth or something like that. Maybe-
Maybe Sam was standing right in front of him, panting like he'd been running. “Dean, just, wait,” he said, throwing up a hand, still gulping for air. “Wait a minute. Just wait a minute, okay?”
Dean couldn't wait anymore, but he couldn't make his legs work either. His mouth was suddenly too dry to respond, his eyes overflowing with moisture.
Sam looked exactly like he had when Dean had last seen him. Stupid blue striped shirt, hair hanging all over the place. He was holding up his hand now, trying to catch Dean's attention. “Don't open it up,” he said. “I'm not...I'm not down there, and I know you probably don't believe me, and god knows I didn't believe you when you came back so you're allowed, and I don't even know how I'm here except that I am. Bobby did all the checking, I swear to god it's me, and if you open that up I'll kick your ass. Give me the rings, Dean. Or just kick them somewhere, if you don't trust me, and I can't believe you hung up on Bobby, you idiot, because if you'd just listened to him you would've known-”
Dean had found his legs and moved. Halfway through Sam's monologue it had degenerated from persuasive to rambling, a sign of Sam's nervousness, and maybe Dean was still insane but he didn't care. He had Sam tight in his grasp before he could over think what he was doing. He felt warm, alive, next to him. “Sammy?” he said, and it didn't come out the sure response he'd been aiming for. Dean sounded all of five again, needing something that would make the world okay again.
Sam's stupid, giant arms were wrapped around him a second later. “Dean,” he rasped, like it took all of his energy to say just that one word. Maybe it did.
Dean didn't care. He held on, not understanding how he had a brother again, but not willing to let his gift go. His “prize package” was still over six feet tall and had arms like a gorilla.
And he was alive and in a perfect little brother package, no Lucifer anywhere to be seen.
Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and didn't bother trying to fight the tears. He was allowed to cry, dammit. He was a big brother again, and so help him, nothing was taking Sam from him ever again.
END
~Nebula
Title: You Gave Me A Name, You Defined My Purpose
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post 5x22
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: #199 - Myxophobia for tamingthemuse
Summary: Dean doesn't handle being brotherless very well, and he doesn't do it for very long. He can't.
Wordcount: 2,793
A/N: Not sure the quoted text from the episode, particularly the spell, is right. If it's not, oh well; y'all don't mind, right?
------------
It smacked him in the face at least three times a day, now. The fact that Sam was gone.
It started when he'd taken Ben to one of his games. The kid was good, and Dean had to give him that. The problem was that he did soccer. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did, because all Dean could see was another kid in his head, one with floppy hair and a stupid grin on his face because his big brother had taken him to the game. The beaming smile on Sam's face when his team had won a championship, Dean didn't even remember. All he remembered was the look on his little brother's face when Sam had showed him the trophy.
Dean hadn't stuck around for any of Ben's games, after that. It was too hard.
He'd wandered to the parks nearby at first, but there'd been a memory associated with each one. He'd walked downtown after that; small town had a historical section, and even that had been hard because all he'd heard was Sam yammering about some random factoid like he always did. All he'd seen was Sam's eyes lighting up at all the history.
But lately, it wasn't as subtle as those things. Lately, it wasn't things or places.
Lately, it was about family.
There was a teenage girl in front of him at the grocery store, right now. She was half talking to her mom, wandering through the aisles and snagging things from the shelves to help. Her mom was pushing the cart and on the back of the cart was a small boy. Didn't look anything like Sam; if anything, he looked more like Dean had as a child. Short blonde hair, freckles, gleam in his eyes that spelled trouble. Couldn't have been very old, maybe five.
Something caught his eye and he was jumping off before the cart was really stopped. “James!” his mom called, then turned to the girl. “Katie-”
“Wanna juice,” James said as his sister came around. “Please?”
Katie rolled her eyes in a teenage fashion but took hold of his hand and headed towards the juice section that had caught his eye. “I got him,” she tossed over his shoulder, before she leaned down and whispered something to her brother. He giggled a moment later, and two seconds after that they were racing for the juice aisle.
“She's a good big sister,” an elderly woman commented to the mom, and the mom smiled proudly and started talking about how Katie loved her little brother, how Katie was such a big help, how James always looked up to his older sibling, and Dean couldn't do it. He left the cart with the rib-eye Lisa had wanted him to pick up in the middle of the aisle and turned away. It took all his concentration to get back to the car (Lisa's, not Dean's, because Dean couldn't even fathom looking at the Impala anymore without Sam) and as soon as he did he buried his face in his hands and fought to breathe.
He wasn't a big brother anymore. He wasn't anyone's brother. Sam was gone, and not just dead but gone. There wasn't even a body he could visit, an urn he could keep nearby. All he had were Sam's things and memories.
But he was brotherless and Lisa didn't get it. She'd been an only child, Ben the same. Neither of them got it, even though they tried. They understood that he and Sam had been 'close'. That was the word they used. 'Close'. It didn't even come close to explaining the bond they'd shared. The heartache Dean felt each day, how much it was killing him to keep his promise to Sam. How much he wished his brother would just appear out of midair and be there, talking about random things like the differences between the three types of gas you could get at the pump, or myxophobia because he couldn't say 'fear of slime' like normal people did-
He hadn't realized he'd started crying until his hands were wet, and at that point he couldn't stop. He found himself tipping over onto the passenger seat, where Sam should've been if this was the Impala, and he gasped shuddering breaths and fought to keep from outright sobbing.
It took fifteen minutes of fighting until he was calm enough to see. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror and saw red, swollen eyes. A moment later and he was back in Stull Cemetery, his entire face bloody and swelling, and Sam right in front of him, smiling a real smile as he promised it was okay. Smiling as he closed his eyes and fell back into the abyss he wasn't ever going to come out of.
And he couldn't do it. He'd been there for two weeks now, trying to fit himself into Lisa and Ben's lives, and he just couldn't do it. “Sorry Sammy,” he whispered to the empty car. “But I have to.”
It didn't take long to pack. He'd barely pulled a few things out; didn't have that much to start with. He was packed and ready to go within ten minutes (not a personal best, but considering how hard his hands were shaking, he thought he'd done pretty good) and downstairs. Lisa and Ben were gone, out to do whatever they usually did. They had routines, things they did with their lives.
Dean had a routine too, and it involved Sam.
He left a note and headed to the Impala for the first time in weeks. She was a little dusty already, but when he slid inside it smelled and felt like home. He deliberately avoided looking in the back at the little green army man. He kept his eyes away from the tear in the passenger seat from when Sam had gripped so hard, bleeding badly from a hunt. There were wrappers floating around the floor and they were all Sam's favorites. They'd done a lot of favorites the last few days before-
And Dean closed his eyes, backed the car out of the driveway, and drove as best he could through burning eyes.
Forty minutes outside of town, Dean figured calling Bobby would be a smart thing to do. Not that Bobby would be able to stop him, but...he didn't really know what. He dialed anyways.
“Good to hear from you, Dean,” Bobby said, picked up after the first three rings. “I was about to call you, actually.”
“I'm heading for Lawrence,” Dean blurted out. He had no idea where it had come from and it was a stupid suicide mission but god help him, he couldn't look at siblings anymore, couldn't look at kids or soccer fields or a freakin' motel without thinking about Sam, and he wasn't going to spend another day like it.
Bobby's silence was stunned, and not in a good way. “You stupid sonuvabitch, you can't be serious-”
“I can't leave him down there, Bobby,” he said, and goddammit he couldn't stop the sob from rising. “I can't, I just can't. I have to get him out.”
“You're gonna set Lucifer free, and for what?”
“For-”
“Obviously for Sam, don't take that tone with me,” Bobby warned as soon as Dean began speaking. Dean swallowed back the anger. “Dean, you can't-”
Dean shook his head like Bobby could see him. “I can and I will. I have the rings still, and I know the incantation.” It was burned into his brain; he swore if he opened his mouth sometimes it would come reeling off, the worst words ever spoken by any man alive. Words that had saved the world and condemned his self-sacrificing stupid little brother. His understanding, too stubborn for his own good, little brother.
“Dean just listen to me for a minute, Sam's-”
“Gone, I know, but I'm getting him back. And at this point, I don't even care if Lucifer gets back out.” He did, it was a lie, but the ache in his chest was too much. He couldn't do it without Sam. God, how had the kid survived for four months without him? Granted, he hadn't been very Sam-like when Dean had gotten back: he'd told Dean once that the Sammy part of him had died when Dean had.
Dean could definitely feel the brother part of him dying with each day as the shock began to fade away. He couldn't let it die. He couldn't let Sammy die.
“Dean-”
“I'm sorry, but really, I'm not,” Dean said simply, then closed the phone and tossed it into the seat. It began ringing half a minute later, as expected, but Dean ignored it. Ignored it for the next forty minutes as it rang and rang and rang.
The night passed by in a blur, reminding Dean of a million different nights where he and Sam had driven together. Most of the nights, Sam had fallen asleep against the window, and if Dean looked now, he could almost imagine seeing Sam there beside him. He kept his gaze locked on the road ahead of him. Pretended that Sam was next to him, sleeping quietly. By the time the sun rose Sam would be up, trying to stretch in a car too small for his frame, poking Dean about a breakfast he'd pick at because he was a bitch like that, and the urge to pull over and cry some more was almost overwhelming.
He kept driving.
When he finally spotted the gates, something inside of him twisted viciously. It didn't look any better at night, and even from the entrance he could see the spot where...
He slammed the car into park and moved swiftly for the back. God knew if Bobby had contacted Castiel, told him to stop Dean. He wasn't going to have much time; no way would they let him do this. And the Dean of twenty-four hours ago wouldn't have let him do this, either, even as he dug for the rings.
Then again, the Dean of twenty-four hours ago hadn't had his heart broken just one time too many. Hadn't seen a young boy asking for juice and punching Dean in his emotional gut, reminding him of another small boy who would ask for juice and s'gabettios, Lucky Charms and salads, a night in versus a night out, beer over Jack, hot chocolate over coffee, stripes versus plaid, hugs any time he could get them, and a soft smile before he tumbled over the edge, probably thinking he'd repaid the world for his mistake when really the world owed him so much more than this.
Dean was brotherless, without a sibling, lost and cut adrift. Having Lucifer around was better than this, and maybe Michael and Lucifer had hashed out their brother issues by now. Maybe it was safe for Sam to come out.
He was insane. He knew it; letting Lucifer out was the second biggest mistake of his life, and all year long he'd nudged subtly and not so subtly at Sam about his having released Satan. For him to do it now was impaired judgment. Stupidity. He'd never be forgiven by Heaven, cast out.
But the biggest mistake Dean had ever done was promise Sam that he'd let him go.
His hands were trembling around the rings as he all but ran over to the place where he'd last seen Sam. The rings fell to the ground from hands suddenly slippery, and Dean stayed right above them, his hand stretched towards them. He was going to fall in, a rational part of his mind told him, but Dean wasn't rational anymore. Dean needed his brother out, because oh god, Sam was in Hell, Sam was being tortured on the same racks Dean had been on, and no, not Sammy, not when he'd saved the world, not when he'd beaten the devil-
Dean began to chant, his voice shaking. “Bar ra esh ta...”
The ground shook a little beneath his feet, making him pause. It took three breaths before he could start again. “Bar ra esh-”
Sam invaded his mind again. He could see the kid looking at him as they'd sat outside and had one last beer together, neither knowing it'd be the last. The look of surprise and gratitude on his face when Dean had said he'd play it Sam's way. If this was what Sam really wanted.
“No,” Sam had said. “It isn't. But I have to.”
He swallowed hard and reached out his hand again. “Bar ra esh ta...”
Sam's earnest look flooded his mind. Castiel asleep behind them, Bobby trailing them in his van. “Promise me,” Sam had asked of him. “Promise you won't do something stupid to bring me back.”
Dean's voice tripped and fumbled over the words, forcing him to start again. “Bar ra esh...”
“Apple-pie, normal life,” Sam had said. “Promise me, Dean.”
He'd promised. Dean wiped a hand over his wet eyes, feeling more tears returning. He couldn't do this. “Bar ra-”
God but he could almost hear Sam yelling at him now. You stupid moron, he'd say. Don't do this for me. You know better. This is what got us here in the first place: let me go, Dean. Dean, just let me go, Dean. His brother kept saying his name over and over again.
Dean didn't want to be brotherless. “Bar ra...bar ra esh...bar ra-”
But he couldn't do this either. To break the last promise he made his brother, to let Lucifer back out just so he could selfishly have a brother and not look at little kids and cry and feel his heart being ripped in two-
He couldn't.
He let his hand fall and shut his eyes, tears streaming down his face. “Sammy,” he choked out. The rings were right where they'd been before, almost glaring at him and accusing him, daring him to say the words that would let Sam out, but Lucifer with him. “Sammy,” Dean whispered.
He could've sworn he could hear Sam's voice calling him. It was louder now, more incessant, and maybe Sam was here somehow. Maybe Sam was nearby, maybe Sam could be heard through the earth or something like that. Maybe-
Maybe Sam was standing right in front of him, panting like he'd been running. “Dean, just, wait,” he said, throwing up a hand, still gulping for air. “Wait a minute. Just wait a minute, okay?”
Dean couldn't wait anymore, but he couldn't make his legs work either. His mouth was suddenly too dry to respond, his eyes overflowing with moisture.
Sam looked exactly like he had when Dean had last seen him. Stupid blue striped shirt, hair hanging all over the place. He was holding up his hand now, trying to catch Dean's attention. “Don't open it up,” he said. “I'm not...I'm not down there, and I know you probably don't believe me, and god knows I didn't believe you when you came back so you're allowed, and I don't even know how I'm here except that I am. Bobby did all the checking, I swear to god it's me, and if you open that up I'll kick your ass. Give me the rings, Dean. Or just kick them somewhere, if you don't trust me, and I can't believe you hung up on Bobby, you idiot, because if you'd just listened to him you would've known-”
Dean had found his legs and moved. Halfway through Sam's monologue it had degenerated from persuasive to rambling, a sign of Sam's nervousness, and maybe Dean was still insane but he didn't care. He had Sam tight in his grasp before he could over think what he was doing. He felt warm, alive, next to him. “Sammy?” he said, and it didn't come out the sure response he'd been aiming for. Dean sounded all of five again, needing something that would make the world okay again.
Sam's stupid, giant arms were wrapped around him a second later. “Dean,” he rasped, like it took all of his energy to say just that one word. Maybe it did.
Dean didn't care. He held on, not understanding how he had a brother again, but not willing to let his gift go. His “prize package” was still over six feet tall and had arms like a gorilla.
And he was alive and in a perfect little brother package, no Lucifer anywhere to be seen.
Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and didn't bother trying to fight the tears. He was allowed to cry, dammit. He was a big brother again, and so help him, nothing was taking Sam from him ever again.
END
~Nebula