[For Dean]

[unchosen_son]

He didn't like to use the words 'given up', but Sam didn't know how else to put it. All he could do was sit on Dean's bed and stare at the walls and wonder what was happening wherever Dean was. Sam's hand kept going to the mark he'd made on his forearm and it didn't sting in pain or do anything weird. It just lay there, a reminder that he'd made a

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[weary_head]

Dean trudged towards the hut on weary feet, gun hanging loosely from his fingers. He'd have tucked it into his belt long ago, but it took all his energy just to keep himself moving forward, much less lift an arm. He needed to find Sam, and Bobby, but he didn't know where they were, and god but he needed sleep. Sleep he could finally afford, filled with dreams he didn't have to fear, and the thought was enticing enough that when Dean pushed himself through the door and saw his own bed, he thought poor Sam and Bobby could wait a little longer. He walked towards it with a sigh of relief, not once thinking to look at Sam's bed.

[unchosen_son]

Sam saw Dean through the door and nearly shot up in his bed, all of his frame jolting like he'd been shocked and he was on his feet immediately, rushing into the other room and sliding (skidding) into the doorway. "Dean," he exhaled, relief hanging on the name as his eyes widened. "You're okay!"

[weary_head]

Dean turned at the voice. "Hey, Sammy," he breathed, and the combined relief and happiness at finding his brother was enough to lift his arms to settle on Sam's shoulders. "Yeah, I'm okay."

[unchosen_son]

Sam didn't even bother hesitating as he wrapped his arms tightly around Dean and tugged him into a hug, burying his face into Dean's shoulder and just taking a moment to be thankful that he hadn't lost Dean, not this time. "I couldn't find you," he admitted hesitantly as he pulled himself off his brother. "I thought..."

It didn't take a genius to know what Sam had thought.