Author's Note: I did cave and wrote a sequel, dealing with the aftermath and such. The first part did enough for me on its own, but this is something I had to whip up to be supplemental and expand. Oh, and I just want to give a shout out to all who have read and who have reviewed and say thanks for the love and support with this story. You all made me smile :)

On with the story...

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A Penchant for Sacrifice 2

Pieces of a Broken Heart

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"Sorry…Sammy…"

"I love you, Dean! Don't…please…"

With one tortured inhale, Sam no longer felt the once throbbing pain in his chest inflicted by the rock salt wound, nor did he feel the bruises on his back and arms from being thrown through a wall. Quite honestly, he felt nothing and he was immobile at the sight of a gun being pointed to his brother's head. His gun.

The harder he willed his body to move, to leap forth and steal Death away from his brother's hands, the less he found himself capable. The accursed fear pulsating through him had frozen him, except for his heart. He felt the damn thing pounding outside his chest, faster and faster, and the sound of blood rushing about inside his body crashed into his head and it was all he heard. And then, he felt the constriction in his chest as something inside him crumbled, gave way…and he knew his heart was quite literally breaking…or he wished it was so he could end the pain.

And as the trigger clenched back and Dean's wrist flinched in struggle, the inevitable happened. He saw his brother's eyes shoot open in a mixture of shame and pity. The gun fired…

Sam's broken heart shattered and he closed his eyes in defeat.

In waiting for that awful finality, Sam became overpowered by emotions as he heard nothing. It was the most precious sound in the world…the sound of a gun firing empty. No bullet had made an exit. Sam savored the fact his gun wasn't loaded, mentally kicked himself for not checking it prior and then once again for the briefest of moments returned to the sight of his still-standing brother. Dean was still alive. And Sam could save him.

Sam was the only one who ever could save Dean.

Pushing down the upheaval of nausea in Sam's stomach, he threw aside his immobilizing fears and tackled his brother to the ground, knocking the gun out of his hands.

Dean fought, despite himself, against his brother. Sam gazed steadily into his eyes, silently communicating that he was sorry, but it would be for his own good.

He lifted his arm back, sore but forced through the irritated pain, and swooped down hard enough to knock Dean unconscious. Sam winced and lifted himself off his brother. He looked down at him with sympathy, thoughts plaguing his mind though he had no time to dwell. He had a ghost to kill and a brother to avenge.

Finding the bones wasn't so difficult after what he'd just conquered, and he took a fond joy in lighting them on fire and watching them burn. And as Dr. Ellicott appeared before him before degenerating to ash, Sam gave him a chilling smile.

"I hope you suffer in Hell, you son of a bitch,"

The threat was gone, but the damage would not so soon fade away…

Sam ran to Dean when he heard him moan as he was slowly coming back to consciousness. He knelt down beside him and Dean fluttered his eyes open and immediately searched for Sam's.

"Sammy," he said weakly. He was obviously drained of most his energy from the battle, both outside and in.

"I'm here," Sam told him, fighting his urge to whimper from the pain he felt in his chest. It had come back. Dean seemed to notice his brother's internal struggle and cursed himself under a faint breath. He knew he was responsible for it…

They used each other for support to help themselves stand and glanced around the room. Dean took a moment to examine Sam's chest and cringed with the thought of how bad it must hurt. Sam had no strength left of his own to begin their much needed follow-up conversation, and he didn't want to stay in that forsaken asylum a second longer.

"Let's just get Gavin and Kat and get out of here, okay?" Sam was asking Dean to put his words aside and take the request with simplicity, which he did, though only for the sake of his brother and that fact that he didn't want to stay either.

The rest was easy now. They found Gavin and Kat, led them out to safety, and saw that they were on their way home, away from danger.

In the pale light of early dawn Dean studied his brother's features. It was the first chance since the incident that he really got to see exactly what he'd done to his little brother. Most of the harm he caused, as he well understood, wouldn't leave visible bruises…but the kind of bruises one suffers when their pride is ripped apart, when their foundation is pulled out from below, when their heart is broken. Those were the kinds of injuries Dean found most difficult to treat, and took the longest to recover from.

"Dean?" and there it was, for sure, that infamous question. Dean could hear it before Sam took another breath. Are we going to talk about this?

And it wasn't that Dean didn't want to talk about it…he knew he'd have to. He had to mend Sammy, make things better. He was just so tired, and he felt too fragile out in the open where bystanders could overhear their conversations. He just wanted to get his brother and himself back to their motel, away from this asylum…away from it all.

"Sam, I'm really tired…and you're hurt. We need to get you back to the motel so I can take a look at those rock salt wounds." He'd stated bluntly, almost a bit uncaring as he didn't want to provoke much of a response from Sam other than simply obeying his wish. Sam nodded, putting a hand over his chest and stepping into the passenger side of the Impala. Dean watched in pitiful helplessness as Sam disappeared from his view below the smooth, black top of the car.

He got inside as well and the engine roared to life, seeming a bit louder than usual, else it was just more silent in the car than they were used to. He wanted to turn and face his brother, but the sight of him he held firm in his peripheral vision was enough to make his heart leap into his stomach. His brother was in pain because of him. He couldn't look at Sam right now…not yet.

The car ride was longer and more quiet than necessary, and Dean believed it was due to the anticipating guilt he had felt welling up inside him. Not even Sam was talking, and Dean was half expecting to have to deter Sam in his urge to discuss the previous events…he only wished his brother would give him the chance.

Something had surely changed between them.

And although Dean would never admit it- he was scared because of that.

He grabbed the first aid kit from the back and watched his brother, unnoticed, as he trudged into the motel, his hand over his chest as if he could keep himself from falling over. Dean would have given anything to trade places with his brother now. He followed Sam inside and took his jacket off, still uncertain about the words inside him itching to find their way out.

Sam was the first to speak, like he usually always was, much to Dean's approval and distress.

"Dean, I know you don't want to talk about what happened," he said warmly, then clenched his teeth as he took a moment to sit on his bed. The pain was apparently overwhelming. Dean cringed.

"Actually, man…I think we better."

At that, Sam tore his head up and stared his brother down. He would have joked that Ellicott was still messing with his brother, but he knew that wouldn't be an appropriate humor spot for a good while.

"Really?" was all the young Winchester could pull from his thoughts. He wasn't complaining, just astonished and slightly caught off guard.

Dean nodded, sitting across from Sam on the adjacent bed and tucking his bottom lip under his teeth. He paused before continuing. "Ya know, it's like…if we don't, then I'm afraid it'll come back and bite us in our asses later,"

Something was obviously bothering Dean and it didn't take his new awareness of a sixth sense for Sam to see that. They had been through a lot of terrible situations before, but there was something about this one that really cut into them.

"Dean, when you were…I mean, what you did…"

"You're not weak," Dean interjected, his eyes harboring an intensity that Sam never saw before. "And you don't hold me back," he was remembering the words he stabbed Sam with earlier. Sam tilted his head back. A small smile stretched on his face.

"I know," he said, trying not to sound too cocky…just pleasantly confident. He was reassured his brother was telling the truth.

"And I never blamed you for Mom, either" Dean said, ready to attack his point with evidence. He let himself believe he needed to convince his brother of that, regardless of Sam's accepting demeanor. "Never…"

Sam looked directly at his brother, forgetting the pain he felt tensing through his body.

"I believe you, and I know you didn't mean any of what you said back there…," Sam let on and Dean crossed his arms, perhaps an attempt to hug himself, preparing for the worst which he had expected to hear. He knew his words were hurtful, and although false, stemmed from very harsh realities. He kept seeing the look in his brother's eyes as he spoke the evil words to Sam, the look of betrayal. He deserved a verbal lashing from Sam, he was waiting to hear it.

"But…?" Dean coaxed, wanting to get the guilt-trip over with.

"What you said…about how you feel you drive everyone away," Sam's chest felt rigid after recalling his brother's expression when he said the words. Dean looked away from Sam, who continued. "Somehow, I don't think doctor Ellicott made you say that…"

"I don't remember saying that," Dean lied, feeling the red rush of embarrassment coloring his face.

"And I won't ever forget you saying that," Sam expressed, attempting to straighten his posture. He felt he might not be taken seriously if he looked the part of an injured soldier. "And it's not your fault. You didn't drive anyone away,"

"I drove you away," Dean said lowly.

"Dad drove me away. And besides, I came back anyway, didn't I? I came back because of you,"

"And I ruined your normal life forever," Dean finished, suddenly wanting to turn his now chatty brother off. Sam hesitated before continuing, choosing his words and tone carefully. This was a delicate conversation, and one tip on the wrong side and it would be over, possibly for good. And Sam needed to be heard out entirely.

"Shut up," he sounded tired but stressed the words lightly with seriousness. "Don't say that. The only thing that ruined normal for us was that thing that killed our Mom. I never had normal, not really…I tried, but it didn't feel right,"

"Why? Because you didn't fit in with the crowd?"

"Because you weren't there with me," Sam confessed. Dean exchanged a look at his brother and back away, feeling something twist inside his stomach, and his resolve to avoid chick-flick moments was gone.

"Sammy,"

"I know, I sound like a girl…but right now I don't care. I should have told you this sooner, Dean. I appreciate everything you've done, everything you do for me…even when I took it for granted, even when I left for Stanford…the hardest part in leaving was saying goodbye to you. And I resented the fact you were always trying to fix me, because I was never broken. Not when you were with me. And I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry if you ever felt like I didn't care, or that I was ungrateful…" Sam stopped himself, having to take a breath to collect his thoughts and put a halt to the tears brimming his eyes.

Dean sat, jaw partly dropped open, staring at his brother speechlessly. Sam was sorry? How could he be sorry?

"It's all right, Sammy,"

"No, it's not. Not really. It should have been me, not you,"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, slightly spooked at Sam's sudden fear emanating from his voice.

"You died for me," Sam spoke and the first tear fell. "You fought…and you were about to put a bullet in your head, just to save my life…If that gun was loaded…I never would have gotten a chance to tell you, to remind you that…I'm grateful, and I'm sorry, and…I love you, and you deserve a better brother," and more tears followed.

Sam was quick to wipe the tears away, his hands trembling. He was showing how weak he was again, and it was killing him. Why couldn't he be strong like Dean? Why couldn't he be strong for Dean?

And by the time new tears were falling, Dean had crossed over to Sam's side, gently pulling him into a hug. He would have squeezed his arms tighter around Sam, but he held back only because of his wound.

And Sam fell into his brother's arms, hating the fact he was being such a crybaby, but he couldn't help it. Dean hadn't realized what he'd done for Sam. Regardless of the gun being unloaded, Dean had pulled the trigger on himself. He ended his life to save Sam's, and why the fuck couldn't he understand the value in that?

Dean was more concerned for how he tried to hurt his brother than he was acknowledgeable of the fact he saved him. He was so wrapped up in guilt and worry that he was blind to his own worth, his own irreversible deed of giving his brother the ultimate sacrifice. And the thought of Dean leaving him like that tore him apart.

Sam's heart was broken with the idea that his brother, that fierce protection, that unbreakable bond could be deconstructed with a simple, proverbial bullet. And there it was, their brotherhood, lying broken between the two, each of them holding a piece that connected with the other; each of them completing the bond.

"I'd die for you like you'd die for me. You'd do the same if Ellicott got to you first," Dean said, warding off tears. He was able to do so only because he was trained. With those words ringing closely into his ears, he pulled himself closer to his brother, not wanting to let go.

The fact was that Sam didn't know if he could believe he'd do the same if it happened to him. He knew he wasn't weak, but he wasn't like Dean. Dean was a perfected soldier, he grew up taking care of Sam, learning how to die for Sam…and Sam was different. He was strong but not as strong. He was capable of dying for his brother, but maybe not capable of putting the gun to his own head. He didn't know how well he could fight, and that frightened him to death.

But Sam had to believe he would fight, even if he couldn't win. And he sighed with thankfulness knowing it wasn't him who had been possessed, knowing he had time to grow stronger, so one day he might be as strong as his brother. And he held on to the hope that when the time came, when Dean would finally break and need Sam's help, Sam could be there with confidence enough in the conviction of his words that he'd always believe true, "Yeah, Dean…I'd die for you," Like you died for me. Like you've been killing yourself since the moment Dad put me in your care.

For the time being, the thoughts of the past and the hopes and fears of the future dissipated somewhere into the corners of the room. And all the brothers saw were each other, all they felt were the safe arms each had around the other, and their broken hearts were finally beginning to mend after all the pieces had collected in their gazes.

Yes. The Winchester family was starting to heal, one piece of a broken heart at a time.

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Okay, so I was a sucker for a happy ending. I thought it'd be interesting and ironic to put something in about a role reversal for Sam and Dean yet again, considering this whole story IS a role reversal...Anyways, I hope this sufficed and everyone enjoyed it. Feedback is absolutely darling! Thanks for reading...

Silver Kitten