AFTER WERTHER

For once, the amber numbing agent in the tumbler didn't hold any appeal. Dean swirled it around a few times, even gamely tried a swig or two. But finally, he gave up and pushed it away, hearing himself make a soft sound. He wasn't sure if it was of disgust or distress.

Dean stood and cleared the dishes, then found himself wandering aimlessly around the Bunker. By the third time he found himself outside his brother's door, he had to admit that perhaps it wasn't as aimless as he thought.

He eased the door fully open and watched Sam sleep until he couldn't stand it. He walked into the room and called out, "Me."

Sam's eyes creaked open and he rolled onto his back "Everything okay?"

"No." Dean came over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Why did you do that?"

Sam studied him for a long moment. Then he groaned, "You're gonna have to be more specific, Dean. It's been a long day."

"Why were you so intent on bleeding out for that damn safe lock? It wasn't worth you life, man."

"Yeah – it was."

"Sammy, you could have died! Nothing is so important that-"

"You are."

Dean made a soft sound, and this time he was sure it was disgust. "You didn't know what was in there! You were going on the word of a hallucination!"

"Wouldn't have been the first time. But it worked." Sam grinned. "We got it and you're going to be okay."

"You don't know that, Sammy. You don't know that it will even work!"

"No, I don't know," Sam said, boring his eyes into Dean's. "But it's a shot at taking that Mark off your arm and making you normal again."

"A shot in the damned dark!"

"Even a shot in the dark can hit the mark," Sam said softly.

Dean shook his head. "It's a fool's errand, Sam."

"Why? Because it's for you?"

Dean had no reply.

Sam sat up, wincing as the stitches in his arms pulled. "Dean – I'll take any shot to help you."

"Why?" Dean choked out. "This time it almost killed you. It almost made you commit..." He couldn't finish that sentence.

"It wasn't a suicide attempt."

"It tricked you into almost bleeding out!"

"That's it, Dean. It tricked me. And the result was good."

"But what if it wasn't?"

"But it was."

Dean groaned. "Sammy, why do you keep this up? Why can't you just accept that I might be this way forever?"

"Because I have hope. It's tiny. It's damaged. But it's there."

Dean studied him for a long moment. "All right, Sammy."

"Dean?"

"All right. If... If that's what this is, then you act on that. You lay down and let your blood replenish itself, and then we'll go from there."

Sam grinned and lay back down. Dean walked over and drew the covers over his brother, ignoring the throb of the Mark that kept baying for his blood. He'd ignored it this far, and the damn thing could just shut up.

And dammit, if Sammy didn't give him those same 'I'm so proud you're my big brother' eyes that he used to as a child before he closed them and drifted back to sleep.

Dean pulled the door to and wandered back to his own room, his brain whirling.

"I have hope. It's tiny. It's damaged. But it's there."

Hell hadn't burned the hope out of Sammy. Neither had Lucifer's hallucinations. Neither had being soulless. Nothing had done it.

And if Sammy had hope...

Perhaps. Just... perhaps. Perhaps Dean could hold onto that tiny, damaged thing until he could find some of his own.

"Because, after all – isn't hope the whole point?"

END