A/N This is a short tag I wrote for the episode "Heaven and Hell" - an episode that I feel is 'tag-a-licious', meaning so many possiblities! :o) Anyway, it's short and was just written quickly off the top of my head. I hope you all enjoy it! ~ Kelcor

A/N 2: For those of you waiting on Chapter 4 of Controlled, I am working on it, I just had to get this one out of my system first. Sorry. :o( ~ Kelcor

Sam Winchester was 26 years old the first time he witnessed his brother falling apart before his very eyes. He may not have been able to see the tears, but he heard them in every word that was spoken, saw them in every involuntary shake of the shoulders - could feel them in every ounce of his being, because he was connected to his brother in a way that surpassed most people's definition of family. Dean was part of him. Something that was proven over and over again in the months that his brother was gone, when every morning that Sam woke up without him, a part of the younger Winchester died in memoriam.

Upon Dean's return, however, those parts of Sam came roaring back to life, as well. The moment that he held his brother in his arms that first day, was the moment that Sam became whole once again.

He had always sensed that a part of Dean was missing, though… left behind in hell… and he was getting an indisputable confirmation of that fact here and now, sitting on the hood of the Impala, drinking a seemingly innocent celebratory beer with his brother. Sure, the drink itself was innocent enough, but the moment no longer held that quality because it was replaced with a sense of possible redemption for his brother, a healing of sorts, that Sam was determined to make a reality.

"And, Alastair, at the end of every day… every one… he would come over and he would make me an offer…to get off the rack, if I put souls on. If I started the torturing."

Suddenly, Sam was glad that his brother had his back to him because he didn't want the older man to see the guilt he was feeling, the horror at the knowledge of what his brother had been forced to endure in the pit… for him! He knew his brother better than anyone and he knew that if Dean saw Sam's pain, Sam's guilt, he would instantly cut himself off, deny himself the healing that only tears could initiate. That's why, despite the pain the story was causing him, the younger Winchester didn't once consider asking his brother to stop.

"And, every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But, then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy," Dean confessed, his voice cracking with emotion. "… I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it. And I started ripping them apart, I lost count of how many souls. The th -- the things that I did to them."

Sam fought his own tears, trying to stay strong for the inevitable, for the moment when Dean finally crumbled beneath the insurmountable weight he had been carrying since he'd been back. "Dean," he began, his peripheral vision revealing his brother's increasingly shaking form. "Dean, look, you held on for 30 years. That's longer than anyone would've."

"What I feel… inside me… I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing," the older Winchester revealed, his tone of voice holding an underlying plea, begging Sammy to make the pain go away.

"Dean, it's okay."

"How can what I did possibly be okay, Sam? I tortured souls! Tortured!"

"Well, God obviously disagrees with you," Sam offered.

Sam knew he had to think fast - and prayed frantically that he said the right thing to pull Dean back from the edge of the cliff he was precariously teetering on. "God pulled you out of hell, Dean. He obviously felt that, despite what you did down there, you still deserved saving." The older Winchester spun around to face him, shock outweighing shame for the moment, and in his eyes was a silent longing for the words to be true, for Sammy to be right… but most of all, a longing for... "God forgave you, Dean. It's time for you to forgive yourself!"

The younger Winchester knew he had to do something before Dean's formidable walls went back up again, but he had no idea what. He watched helplessly as his brother once again gave him his back, saw how the older man wrapped his arms around his stomach, leaning against the car as if to keep himself from falling to his knees. Unwilling to be a bystander any longer, Sam forced himself off the hood and walked over to stand in front of his brother, placed a strong hand on Dean's shaking shoulder, tried not to be hurt when the silent reques for eye contact was blatantly denied.

Attempting to slide his mask back in place, Dean straightened, made a move to walk away from his little brother, but Sam wouldn't allow it. Adjusting his grip so that he had a hand on either of his big brother's shoulders, he was effectively blocking the intended retreat. After a moment, Dean finally looked up at him and Sam put as much sympathy, understanding and love into his gaze as he possibly could. He knew his brother had read his eyes correctly when the older Winchester's lower lip started to tremble and more tears started to fall.

"Sammy?"

That broken, tortured voice is what made Sam's decision for him. He moved his hand up to the back of Dean's neck, gave a supportive squeeze, saw Dean lean instinctively towards him, then, an instant later, try to pull away. "Don't," he heard his brother say, not missing the strangled sob that followed. Ignoring the older man's protests, Sam pulled him into a rough hug, wrapping both arms around his shoulders tightly, holding his brother against his chest.

Dean struggled weakly, but he just didn't have any strength left and soon gave up, accepting his brother's comfort, while still maintaining some semblance of control over his emotions.

"Let me help you, Dean. Please."

Unwilling to be held back any longer, apparently having a mind of their own, Dean's emotions swept through him, shaking his whole body with their torrents of pain. Sam's heart broke when he felt his brother bury his face in his shoulder, still trying to hide - not from Sam, but from the rest of the world. Dean's legs soon gave out and Sam took his weight into his arms, sinking to the ground with him, not letting his brother go for even a second. Leaning his back against the wheel well, he cradled his brother against him. When Dean made a half-hearted effort to pull away, Sam once again ignored him and simply pulled him closer. He didn't try to quiet the older man's sobs, just held him, even rocked him, as he lost this war. He did what he had been trying to do in earnest for most of his life... fought by his big brother's side, gave him the strength he would need to continue once his inner battle was complete, once his heart and soul were once again fortified.

"I gotcha, big brother," Sam whispered. "I gotcha." Then, he felt it... he felt his brother truly open up to him, allow him to be his rock, couldn't miss how Dean actually leaned in closer to his little brother, consciously seeking the sanctuary offered in Sam's arms.

A/N I plan to write a Dean POV, as well, but I first want to see how this one goes over with all of you. Does the ending work? Did I manage to get into Sam's head well enough to pull this off? Should I try to get into Dean's head, too? Please leave a review and let me know? Thanks so much for reading! :o)