Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

The Demon Drink

Dean had done a lot of hard things in his life. A lot of them had involved Sam too. But this was different somehow. This time, he had to go to his brother, who had apparently asked to see him, and try to convince him to give him another chance.

After all, why should he? While Dean had always taken him back, he could hardly blame Sam for thinking that Dean had only done it because he had to. What sort of brother told his little brother that he didn't want to see him when he learned that the devil was gunning for him personally? What sort of brother threw away the most important gift they had ever received just because some of his brother's select memories didn't involve him? Dean had done a lot over the years. For a long time he had told himself that he was in the right. Maybe Sam was right. He did have impossibly high standards, standards no one else could meet.

'What's dead should stay dead'. Yet it was Dean who had broken that, done a crossroads deal to resurrect Sam after Cold Oak. It was him who had demanded that Michael resurrect Sam after he was killed in the past. It was him who had asked Death himself to give Sam his soul back.

'Don't lie to me'. Sam had done a lot of lying to Dean over the years, but he had always believed he had been doing the right thing. And Dean got pissy about it all the time, while he was lying to Sam, about Hell, about Amy, and about a whole host of other things. So, he was basically saying he could lie but Sam and everyone else couldn't.

'You've got to tell me when something's wrong'. That was a good one. Dean kept everything bottled up inside, until it came out in one explosive eruption and nearly killed the best thing in his life.

Dean sighed as he pulled into the parking lot. He had always made Sam feel like he was the one who should struggle to meet his expectations, match up to his standards, do things his way or no way at all. And look where that had gotten them. More than once it had nearly destroyed their bond as brothers, and this time it had nearly destroyed his brother. Dean had been so full of self righteousness, self pity and self loathing that he hadn't seen just how much Sam had tried to live up to Dean, tried to be like his big brother. Fact of the matter was, Sam was a lot different, and while he had screwed up, he had done so much that Dean was proud of. He was a better man than he could ever be. The reality was, Dean should have been looking up to Sam (and not just literally). Dean had continually screwed Sam over in their relationship, never letting him grow up. He had never wanted to admit that his baby brother wasn't a baby anymore. But the proof was there, and he had nearly lost Sam because he didn't realise how good he had had things before it was nearly too late.

Yeah, they had lost their mom when they were both very young. They had lost their dad, who gave his life to save Dean, and to get one up on Azazel. Dean supposed that a lot of guilt had come from that. His dad had died to save him, to make sure he could do what he couldn't. But the old man had made a mistake. He had actually assumed that Dean was as obsessed with screwing over the demons as he was, that he would kill Sam. That would never have happened, until now anyway. He had lost Sam, and within seconds, he had realised that he couldn't live without him, no matter what it took. So he made the deal, the deal that would leave Sam all alone and vulnerable to Ruby's manipulations, the deal that would lead him to break the first seal and kick off the entire Apocalypse process. They had lost Ellen and Jo, two people they had come to view as family, two people who had lost someone they loved because of his father, and when they had died, he had felt guilty for that too. They had lost Rufus, because Dean had let his temper get the better of him and the entire situation had spiralled out of control from there, because he hadn't trusted his instincts that Sam was fine as he should have done. They had lost Castiel, because Dean hadn't wanted to admit that his friend was going dark, hadn't wanted to admit that someone he had once chosen over Sam would betray them, and then had been immobilised because Cas had hurt the one person who it would devastate Dean to see hurt the most. And then they had lost Bobby, because Cas had set loose the Leviathans, and once more Dean had acted like he was the only one who was affected by the loss even though Sam was hurting too, once more shutting his brother out when all he wanted to do was help.

But despite all their losses, one thing had been a constant in Dean's life. Sam. His little brother, there to help Dean when he needed it, always willing and wanting to help his brother, despite all the times he had been pushed away. Sam had died, and he had still come back to Dean. Dean had died, and he had still found Sam waiting for him. They had started the Apocalypse together, and the two of them had worked together, as they always did, in order to fix the mess and give the proverbial 'up yours' to the angels. Sam had been trapped in Lucifer's cage, and had come back, soulless, but he had come back, once more, to find Dean. Sam had had his soul restored, and the first thing he had done was go on a hunt with Dean. Dean had been so busy lamenting everything crappy in his life, he had totally overlooked what made his life worth living. His baby brother.

Dean entered the hospital, his heart hammering. How the hell did they go about this? This wasn't the effect of anything demonic, wasn't something harebrained that had gone wrong, no one had possessed Dean, no one had forced him to hurt him. Dean had simply let his own hatred and rage take over, and he had vented it towards his brother, and had nearly lost him. To think, Dean had once assumed the moral high ground over Sam with the demon blood. His own addiction was just as bad. In fact, the only time Sam had actually hurt Dean when taking the blood was when he had tried to stop him killing Lilith. For the last few years, Dean had been using Sam more and more as a punching bag, usually for trivial reasons. He had been lashing out, and his brother had been trying to help, but he had still not made any progress and now it had nearly cost him his life.

So where did they go from here? Dean pondered this thought as he approached Sam's room. What if Sam had called him to tell him that he never wanted to see him again? Dean had done that to Sam a couple of times and had immediately regretted saying it. But it had hurt him to say it, so how would it feel if this time it was directed at him? How could he even begin to move on from this? Would Sam flinch every time Dean raised a hand, raised his voice? Would Sam look at him with mistrust, with fear? He knew full well he wouldn't be able to cope if his brother didn't trust him. Sam had learned to cloak himself in armour of fire when Dean hadn't trusted him, that was what made things so bad between them when they were hunting Lilith. Dean was an armour of ice, and eventually it would shatter if that was the case. He knew neither of them could never forget what had happened. There was also little chance Sam would forgive him. After all, Dean had never neglected to throw everything Sam had ever done wrong back at him, why should Sam not do the same to him? Dean's courage was failing. Yeah, he felt a lot better than he had, to be honest, in years. And that was without Sam. Could he really win back his brother, make his life worth living? Dean found his hand straying to his pocket, to find Bobby's hip flask, and cursed as he remembered he had emptied it. Dutch courage again.

Dean swore at himself, earning him a reproving look from the nurse on duty. Was this really what he was like? Drinking whisky like it was water, as soon as things went bad, he was reaching for the drink? Why the hell had Sam put up with him? It had been ages since Dean had acted as his big brother. Instead, he had been acting like an angry drunk, pushing Sam away every time he needed him or wanted to help him, hurting him in so many ways that it wasn't real. All those years ago, when he had taken Sam from Stanford, he had only really hurt Sam when Sam was possessed or hurt. And while Sam had resented Dean for a while from taking him away from the life he had worked so hard to create for himself, he had eventually got back into the swing of things, enjoying nothing more than going on a hunt with his big brother, torching everything that got in their way or harmed them, back when their lives had been good, back when hunting had been fun, and they didn't have to worry about angels, Apocalypses, Eve or Leviathans. Back when they were two invincible brothers, who could take on anything and anyone and always relax with a film and a couple of beers after a job well done at the end of the day. What had happened to that?

Everything Dean had said to Sam, that wasn't what he really felt. It wasn't Sam's fault they were targeted by angels and demons. It wasn't Sam's fault that they had lost people they cared about. And it wasn't Sam's fault that Dean thought his life sucked. It was Dean's. But now, he realised that his life in fact didn't suck. Well, sometimes it did, in places, but so did everyone else's. Someone could have a crappy day, but they always picked themselves back up. Dean had made himself think that he was always having a crappy day, not realising that some days just spent hanging out with Sam were the best he could ever ask for.

And how could he try and take that away from himself? How could he let all his problems try and take away the best thing in his life? Dean had faced a choice in the motel room: booze or Sam. Then, the choice had seemed a no brainer. He would always choose his brother. But now, what did he do now? What would Sam's choice be? Him, or happiness? Now that he was actually here, did he stay and face the music, like a man, and see if he could salvage his relationship with his brother? Or did he run, and do what Jo had said, stick a bullet in his head and allow Sam to live the life he had always wanted? He couldn't face Sam, not knowing it was him who had done that to him, had hurt him like that. He would do what Sam wanted, stop drinking, but until he was sure he could look Sam in the eye again, he would give Sam the space he wanted. Sam deserved a better brother than he was, and until Dean was, he knew Sam would be just fine without him. Dean took one last look of farewell at the door to Sam's room, when suddenly the air went still, the entire corridor froze and the doors Dean was heading towards slammed shut.

"If you take one more step in that direction Dean Winchester, I will kick your ass." A peeved off voice said, and Dean gulped anxiously as Ellen materialised before him, looking seriously pissed off.

"Oh, hi Ellen, how ya doing?" he asked nervously, and she narrowed her eyes in irritation.

"Don't you 'hi' me when you were about to walk out and abandon your brother. You're in enough trouble as it is." She said grumpily.

"He deserves someone better than me. I've not been much of a brother recently, as I'm sure you'll agree." He said sadly, and she nodded.

"Damn straight I would. But while you haven't been much of a brother, that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to still be his brother. There's so many times I've wondered when he would get so fed up of you he would leave for good. God knows you've deserved it a lot over the last few years. They way you've treated him, I'm surprised he hasn't left you entirely. But you never gave up on him, despite how much you might have wanted to, and he hasn't given up on you. Not yet. But if you walk out that door without so much as a goodbye, even if you think you're doing it for the right reasons, you will lose him for good. He will give up on you, and you will never see him again. Do you really want that?" she asked sternly, and Dean shook his head.

"It's not as easy as that Ellen. I tried to kill him, because I was so full of hate and I didn't realise what I had. How the hell does he forgive me for doing that?"

"Because he's your brother you idiot. He's your family. Sometimes family screws up. You've done your fair share of it. So has he. But trust me when I tell you Dean, if you make this final mistake, if you walk away now, there will be no coming back from that. He will never forgive you and you will lose your brother for good. And I know you don't want that. No matter how crappy you feel, you know full well that Sam is the reason you're still here, still going. And if you're willing to throw that all away, just to avoid having to confront your failures and what you've done wrong, then you may as well get your gun and shoot yourself, because without Sam honey, you're only half of yourself." She said kindly, and he grinned a little.

"You implying that I'm being a coward?" he asked, and she smiled.

"Yeah. And a self righteous, opinionated ass with a 'woe is me' complex that makes me wanna throttle you. But you can fix that Dean. And all it will take is turning round and facing the music. Your brother still wants you. Still needs you. The kid has Lucifer talking to him all day and night, he's lost virtually all he cares about, and he's been steadily losing the person who matters the most to him, the one who keeps him grounded, who keeps him being him. And trust me Dean, you don't want to lose that. I know you don't. He's made mistakes before too Dean. Not quite so severe as trying to kill you without help from something we hunt, but he has screwed up too. And if anyone can understand what you're dealing with, it's him. He needs you as much as you need him. So don't you dare run off just because you can't cope with change, or what you've become. Go back to being the kid who strolled into my roadhouse all those years ago, ridiculously protective of his brother, a smart ass hunter with a score to settle, and not a care in the world other than his car and his brother. Because that kid is still in there Dean, you just forgot him. You let him get buried under all the crap you've been through, and I don't blame you for that sweetie. But you gotta stop doing that, before you both get lost. I'm not saying your life hasn't sucked, because it has. But there's some good stuff in it too Dean, and it's time you remember that, that's what you forgot." She said, and Dean gave her a genuine smile, like the smart ass, cocky smiles he used to wear when he and Sam had done something harebrained that had sent her and Bobby's blood pressure through the roof.

"Thanks Ellen. I miss you." He said, and she smiled.

"And I miss you too kid. Come here." She said, and wrapped him in a hug.

She then cuffed him on the side of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" he demanded angrily, and she smiled.

"That was a reminder to do the right thing. And this," she said, cuffing his other ear, "is a warning not to do that to your brother again. You lay a hand on him like that again, I'll kick your ass from here to next millennia. Got it?" she demanded and he nodded reluctantly.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy. Now, get in there and make nice with your brother. And don't either of you dare go and get yourself killed, or I'll kick you both in the ass." She said warningly, and vanished, allowing the hospital to return to normal, and it immediately began bustling once again.

Dean took a deep breath. Yeah, he couldn't be a coward, and go straight for the drink just because he was feeling crappy about his life or because he'd had a bad day and couldn't face up to what was really wrong. It was time he started acting like Sam's brother again. It was time he stopped drinking and started earning his brother back. So, Dean took a deep breath, knocked on Sam's door and entered.

XX

"Hi." Dean said softly, and Sam looked over at his brother as he lingered awkwardly in the doorway.

It was a strange feeling, looking at his brother, knowing what he had done to him. While he was still angry, and upset with his brother, he was also relieved to see him. After what he had said to him yesterday, a small part of him had feared he would never see his brother again, which he didn't want, not at all. And while part of him was relieved, another part of him was incredibly happy to see his big brother. Ah well. Winchesters were weird like that.

"Hey." Sam responded, his tone neutral, and Dean took that as leave to creep forward, and he sat on a chair at the bottom of the bed, not saying anything, just looking at his brother.

"Dean?" Sam asked after a minute.

"Yeah?"

"You can come closer if you want. I can't see you down there, I'm at the wrong angle, and I'm not going to bite." He said, trying not to roll his eyes.

He was rewarded with his patience a minute later, as after much internal deliberation, Dean pulled the chair to Sam's left hand side and sat, just out of where he could reach his brother, so as not to frighten him if he moved his hands in any way.

"How you feeling?" Dean asked, looking for any signs of improvement in his brother.

Sam pondered that. How was he feeling? Dr Cox said he was doing well, and that the marks on his neck were going down, and some of the cuts were already beginning to heal. And he had his brother, when he had been afraid that his brother might take him at his word and never see him again, or worse, do something completely stupid and irreversible.

"I don't know. Everything's getting better, my bruises are going down. And I actually feel a lot better. Lucifer hasn't been here all day." He said, and Dean looked at him curiously.

"Why not? I take it he was here yesterday, when you were about to, you know, cut yourself?" Dean asked softly, and rather than the anger he expected to hear in his voice, Sam heard a little bit of fear and sadness.

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that. I know that you wouldn't want me to kill myself. I was confused, messed up, you had, well you know, and Lucifer was saying that all the stuff you had said the other night was true, and I don't know, I started to believe it, I didn't know what to make of it. Dean...you, you didn't mean it did you?" he asked in almost a whisper, and Dean once more felt the urge to be sick, knowing how much even his words had hurt his brother.

"Of course I didn't. It wasn't you I had the problem with, it was me. I let everything bad in my life drown out all the good, and you were there as usual, trying to help, trying to be sympathetic, and I don't know, I probably thought I didn't deserve it, and snapped. You were being you, and I don't know, call it jealousy, displaced anger, whatever, it all came to the fore, and combined with everything I'd drunk, and the fact that I'm usually cruel to you when I've been drinking anyway...I just remembered everything bad in my life, I couldn't see anything good, and it was me I was angry at, and rather than take it out on myself, I took it out on you. Sam, I know you didn't have anything to do with any of the stuff I said. It's not your fault that our lives got fucked up, it's not your fault people we care about die. And most importantly, Sam, I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I hate myself, even more than usual considering what I did to you, but not you. Ok? You gotta believe me in that if nothing else. Everything that sucks in our lives isn't your fault. And some of it isn't mine either." He admitted quietly, and Sam looked at him, and for a single moment, Dean thought he saw Sam's mouth twitch towards a smile.

"I always worried that beneath it all you did hate me, that you only kept me around because of mom and dad, not because of me. I know it was stupid, but after everything, I was scared that you actually didn't want me as your brother, that you did think I was cursed, poison, everything you hate. Lucifer just made it worse. I knew you wouldn't really mean all those things, just like other things you say when you're drunk. But he twisted me around, made me believe you wanted to kill me, that you enjoyed it, that you wanted me dead, gone, and it got to me. I'm sorry." He said, sounding miserable, and Dean pulled his chair a little closer to the bed.

"Is he here?" Dean asked, and Sam actually did smile, and Dean had to stop a smile of his own. Wouldn't do to make his brother think he was drunk or insane when he was trying to make things up with him.

"Actually no. I got a visit last night. From mom. I don't know what she was, a dream, a spirit, I've got no idea. But she showed up, told Lucifer to back off, told him exactly what she thought of him, and he disappeared in a strop." He said with a grin, and Dean had to smile too.

"So you got a visit from mom huh? I was visited by Jo. And Ellen earlier too. She threatened to kick my ass into the next millennium if I ever do something like this to you again."

"And?" Sam asked, personal and professional interest overriding all else.

"And they seem happy, well they aren't particularly happy with me, but...they talked to me, and things they said actually made sense. They told me just what I was missing out on. I was so focused on all the bad, I missed out on the good. I missed out on you, the thing that keeps me sane. And because I was so consumed by anger and bitterness, while drinking my weight in whisky and vodka and everything else I could get my hands on every night, I didn't realise just how lousy a brother I'd been even before I tried to kill you. Drinking myself into a stupor every night, when all you wanted to do was help, I wasn't helping either of us."

"Dean..." Sam protested in a whining voice, and Dean smiled.

"Sam. I'm your big brother. It's my job to look after you. And I know you're all grown up, and a hell of a better guy than I am, not better looking though, but it's my nature to look after you. Problem is, recently I've been doing a crappy job of it, and I've been letting my anger dictate everything I did, my hurt. The last thing I did as your big brother was give you your soul back, and before that, I don't even know what it was, it was like your big brother was in hibernation. Remember when I hit you because you didn't like Gordon? I felt so guilty about that, for weeks. When I hit you because you'd upped and left me, I didn't feel anything. I was just getting angrier and angrier, and for years you've been the only person I can take it out on, even though you didn't deserve it. I hated everything about our lives Sam, but never about you. I've been pushing you away, hurting you, all these years, and I realise now just how much I missed you, even though you were there all along, waiting for me to get my act in gear and start being me again. I'm so sorry." Dean said hoarsely.

Sam looked at his big brother, someone who he could truly call his big brother again, and smiled.

"I was content to be your punching bag Dean, if that's what it took, but it didn't work. You only got angrier every time you hit me, not better." He lamented, and Dean looked at his shoes in shame.

"Because I hated myself. Remember that day dad hit you because you snuck out to see a film? I promised myself I would never become like that. Fact was I became worse. And every time I hurt you, because I was angry, because I was drunk, it was a step closer to becoming dad, which I knew full well would probably make me lose you anyway. I got angry with myself, and every time I took it out on you, I got angrier with myself because I hurt you." He explained, and Sam moved his good hand a little closer to the edge of the bed,

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" Sam asked, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Remember, I'm the big, macho, insensitive pig, who has stupid rules and high standards no one else meets, you're the sweet, caring, innocent, not as good looking one." He said with a slight smile, and brought his chair a little closer.

"Dean, what I said about your standards..." Sam said, but Dean shook his head.

"No Sam. You were right. I deserved everything you gave me, and more. And as soon as you're better, I will let you kick my ass as much as you want for what I've done to you. And I don't just mean for this." He said, pointing at Sam's beat up body.

But Dean didn't fail to notice that Sam didn't flinch when he raised his hand, and this heartened him.

"We've both screwed up a lot over the years Dean." Sam reminded him, and Dean shrugged.

"I know we have. But nothing quite like this. Sam, please know, I never, ever meant to hurt you like this. If I'd been in the my right mind, if I'd been your brother rather than a bitter drunk, if I hadn't been taking all the blame and guilt onto myself, and thinking how crappy our lives were at times, I would never ever have hurt you the way I have now. You understand that, right?" he asked pleadingly, and Sam nodded.

"Of course I do Dean. You always forgave me after I tried to kill you after all." He said, with a whimsical smile.

"Yeah, but usually there were extenuating circumstances, like demons." Dean reminded him, and Sam shrugged, and immediately regretted it, because it hurt his ribs.

"Well so was this. Just a case of inner demons though." He said fairly, and Dean smiled. That was his baby brother. He was a better man than he was. There were times that he really hated it when Jo was right.

"Thanks Sam. I really am sorry for trying to kill you." Dean said, knowing sorry was a little feeble in this instance but it was the best he had.

Sam thought about the attack, and shrugged.

"Yeah, you did try to kill me. And despite what I usually say, I think I will take you up on your offer to kick your ass when I get out of here, I can't let this one slide. But, when you did, you stopped." He said, and Dean looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?" he asked, moving his hand down to his knee, plucking up his courage to try and move it to the bed and hope his brother wouldn't move his hand, or flinch.

"When you were strangling me. Dr Cox told me that if my attacker had held on even a couple of seconds longer, I would have died. But you didn't. You let go just in time, there was still life in me when they found me. You could have actually killed me, but you didn't." He pointed out, and Dean thought about that.

"You reckon your big brother was there somewhere?" Dean asked with a small smile, and Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Somewhere. Thanks for not finishing me though. That would have sucked for both of us." He said, and Dean snorted in amusement.

"No kidding." He said, before placing his hand over Sam's, and it virtually made his day when Sam didn't move it from under his.

They sat there silently for a few minutes, Sam testing everything he could. His brother was back. Dean had been there, but his brother Dean hadn't. And now, he could very well get him back. Dean looked at his brother and smiled. Sam still wanted him around. In his place, Dean probably would have told Sam he never wanted to see him again. Thank god Sam was the nicer one of the two of them.

"Sam?" Dean asked, wanting to make absolutely sure.

"Yeah?"

"Can I be your big brother again?" he asked, and Sam smiled.

"You mean can you be my overbearing, overprotective, smart ass jerk of a big brother? What do you think I've been wanting? Dad junior? Of course I want my big brother back. But that doesn't meant that when I'm better I'm not going to kick your ass for doing this to me in the first place." He said, and Dean could almost feel his heart repairing, and the black cloud over him dispersing, despite the impending ass kicking from his brother, which he knew full well that he deserved and more.

"Thanks Sam." He said fondly, respecting his wishes not to be called Sammy.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. He was going to regret this, he knew he was, but he couldn't leave it there.

"Mey." He said, and Dean looked at him curiously.

"Huh?"

"Sammy. If you're going to be my pain in the ass big brother again, you may as well call me Sammy. It wouldn't be right if you didn't." He said, and Dean started to laugh, the most he had heard Dean laugh in a very long time, and it was an actual laugh, not forced, and there was an actual happy smile along with it.

"You, you, the person who has been telling me for the last eight years that it's 'Sam, not Sammy', have just given me leave to call you Sammy?" he demanded between giggles, and Sam rolled his eyes in amusement.

"Yeah I did. I know you are now going to make my life miserable, but what choice do I have?" he asked good naturedly, and Dean suddenly hugged him fiercely.

Sam returned the hug immediately, and then hissed in pain, and Dean pulled apart, looking sheepish.

"Sorry Sammy. I forgot about your ribs." He said guiltily.

"It's ok. Dean?" he asked softly, and Dean looked at his little brother, who was grinning.

"Yeah?"

"You're going to drive me crazy until I get out of here aren't you?" he asked and Dean nodded, smiling widely.

"Yeah. And probably after that too. I'll be fussing over you every step of the way." He promised, and Sam rolled his eyes in amusement.

"Thought so. I'm going to go crazy in here too." Sam lamented, and Dean couldn't bear to see the downfallen look on his brother's face.

"Don't worry, I'll come by every day and keep you company...if you want me to." He said nervously, and Sam nodded.

"Course. I need someone to talk to, even if it is my intellectually challenged brother." He teased, and Dean poked him in the side.

"I'm trying to be nice here. And I'll bring you books, I might even read Harry Potter while you're stuck in here..." he said, and Sam snorted in amusement.

"Hey, I can read!" Dean protested, rightly guessing what the snort was about.

"There's no pictures you know." Sam warned, and Dean assumed his own bitchy face, making Sam snigger.

"And I'll bring you cake too, you filthy heathen." Dean said, and Sam's eyes lit up, he had always preferred cake to pie, no wonder he was insane.

"Thanks."

They once more sat in companionable silence, until Dean became aware of the puppy dog look that Sam was giving him, and this time it worked, and he didn't need to ask to interpret what his brother wanted. Smiling to himself, he sat on the bed beside Sam, and slowly started to brush his hair with his fingers, like he always had when he was ill or wounded, and to his great relief Sam didn't protest any of it. Sam started to relax with his brother watching him, and soon he was getting groggy.

"I'm not saying you can't drink any more. Just, not so much." He mumbled, and Dean smiled.

"Thank god for that. Here, you keep this for a while." He said, and took Bobby's flask from his pocket and passed it to Sam, who looked at him curiously.

"I emptied it last night when I was drinking the water. And besides, you could do with sprucing this room up a bit. It'll remind you of Bobby." Dean said, not revealing that he was just removing another source of temptation.

Sam knew though. And that was how he surprised Dean a moment later.

"You don't need to you know. I trust you." He said quietly, and those words filled Dean with such relief and joy it was a wonder his face didn't break with the smile he had.

"Thanks Sammy." He said, watching as his brother drifted to sleep, still brushing his hair.

His little brother. The good thing in his life he kept going for. And even though it had been Dean who had hurt him, had nearly killed him, he knew they were going to be alright

I love you Sammy, Dean thought, and would never say it out loud.

After all, the entire visit had been one massive chick flick moment, more so than anything else over the years. The mother of all chick flick moments. Not that he minded, but he also wouldn't admit that either. He smiled to himself, and helped himself to Sam's water jug, as his brother slept soundly beside him.

I love you too Dean, Sam thought as he began to dream.

XX

Three weeks later, Sam was finally let out of hospital. His ribs and wrist were mostly healed, and he could now handle their maintenance himself. The scratches had all but gone from his face, and the bruises had followed suit. His sprain was healed, and the bruises on his neck had long faded.

The two of them had spent virtually the entire three weeks together, relaxing, watching TV, Sam educating Dean on the finer points of Harry Potter (becoming convinced his big brother had a bit of a crush on Professor McGonagall in the process), having good natured arguments, and just being brothers again. Dean had hardly left Sam's side, and had only gone to the motel to sleep. He had also not had an alcoholic drink in three weeks. True, he was now addicted to banana milkshakes, but Sam could handle that. Besides, Dean had brought him a chocolate one and had to admit that they were damn good.

They were fully packed into their little Ford Anglia and headed for the outskirts of town, Dean singing Led Zeppelin to himself, while Sam busied himself in a self defence book that Dean (the smartass) had bought for him.

"There might be a case in Wichita, Kansas." Sam mentioned as Dean took the car to the highway.

"Yeah, I saw your papers. Something to do with Plucky the clown. Sure it's your gig?" Dean asked in a teasing voice.

Sam glowered at him.

"I'll do it if that's what you mean. Just...keep me away from the clowns." He said uncertainly, and Dean laughed.

"It isn't funny Dean! They scare me!" Sam moaned, and he laughed more, and Sam gave in and started too.

"Don't worry Sammy, I won't let them hurt you." He assured him, half teasing, half serious.

"Thank you." Sam said sarcastically, though he did smile.

"Bitch." Dean said, unable to help himself.

"Jerk." Sam said happily, and he knew that at long last, the two of them were going to be alright.

In the back seat, invisible to the boys, Bobby, presently a ghost bound to the now milkshake filled hip flask, rolled his eyes in exasperation, though even he couldn't stop the smile that appeared on his face.

"Edjits."

The end!

Well I thoroughly enjoyed writing that story, so much so that I've started another one and will upload it momentarily.

So all's well that ends well. Dean has said he will be Sam's big brother again, and everything is back to normal for our two boys. And poor Bobby is stuck in the backseat with the pair of them, shame.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, I've never finished a story so fast before. Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, and long may they continue, and i hope to see you all in the next story!

Thanks again for everything, and as always, please review, I thoroughly enjoy seeing big numbers in my inbox every morning!