"Sammy."

When he realized he wasn't imagining things, that his brother had spoken, he dropped his arms and froze in shock. It had come from behind him; Dean was probably standing in the entryway to the library. But he couldn't turn around, couldn't face his brother because he had also probably just heard every word he fucking said–

That one word, it had his shoulders slump with relief and goddammit, he was sure there were tears streaming from his eyes, but he still couldn't turn around, too ashamed to see the pain etched onto his brothers face. The pain he had caused.

Sam clenched one fist and placed his other hand over his mouth to prevent himself from gasping out loud. It had only been four days, but it felt like an eternity since he'd heard Dean speak and it was astonishing how much one word could make him react like this. That nickname that he used to hate, the one that now was an embodiment of their relationship – only he gets to call me that – the name he had wanted to hear his brother speak for the past four days.

Releasing his hand, he uttered, "Dean," into the vast sea of the bunker, trying not to hear how his voice cracked over that one syllable and the way it echoed around the room.

"I…you heard every word of that, didn't you?" He asked in a timid voice, wondering how – or if his brother would respond.

"Loud and clear, Sammy." Came the reply, still quiet, but stronger than before.

Sam dipped his head, nodding as a lump formed in the back of his throat. Grateful that Dean was at least able to speak to him. After what he had said days before and realizing the true affects his words had, he was surprised Dean even wanted to talk to him. Swallowing down the guilt, Sam tried to explain himself.

"Dean, I'm sorry. About what I said, I-I had no right. Maybe a little bit, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you, god…" He barely choked out the last words, verging on hysterical babbling. Blinking a few times, Sam drew in a breath and continued.

"It's just…we've been so far apart these past few years, you know? With all the lies, the sacrifice and pain, I'm afraid things will never be the same 'cause I don't want that. We need to get past this somehow; it just doesn't feel like it's ever going to happen-

Apparently, Sam had been babbling, focused enough on the words that he didn't notice his brother approach and stand in front of him. Dean placed his hands on Sam's shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes.

"Hey, hey, Sammy I know. I know, alright? As much as I want to say things are okay, I know they're not. But someday, they will be. Hell, even if it takes years. Eventually…we'll be okay."

Dean looked away for a moment, exhaustion creeping in from the past few days, before turning back to Sam with a more relaxed posture.

"Now, I'm the one that should be sorry, shutting you out like that." His grip intensified and he took a breath to steady his voice. "It's just…I finally thought you'd given up on me you know? After everything…but now I know you didn't mean it like that, at least not fully. I shouldn't have believed so easily when you said you wouldn't save me, 'cause I know you would Sammy, if it came down to that...you would."

Dean could feel his brother meekly nod, head bobbing up and down. "I would Dean, but you have to promise me: no more deals. I mean it, no more self-sacrificing for one another when one of us is just going to end up alone. As much as I know you don't want to be left alone, I don't either. I don't. Truth be told bro, we both turn into messes when the other's gone."

His brother let out a weary, yet relieved chuckle as he squeezed once, pulling back to look him in the eyes again.

"You're right about that one little brother. Now, you once told me to have faith in you, I'm asking you to have faith in me. That we can continue without hurting each other, 'cause only god knows how many times that's worked out in our favor."

Sam gave a small grin. "Alright. But if we're going to do this, we're going to do it as equals big brother," he agreed, holding out a hand.

Sporting a smile of his own, Dean tentatively shook his hand. "Okay. I think this calls for a celebratory drink."

At the sight of his brother's face falling, he held up a hand in protest. "Hey, I won't go overboard this time man. One beer, that's all I'm asking."

Sam rolled his eyes and was going to start walking towards the kitchen, but Dean stopped him. He raised an eyebrow at the nervousness on his brother's face.

"One more thing. Cas was right, when you guys were talking."

Dean rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "The only time I'm going to be at peace is when I'm worrying about you. And I know you're gonna try and change my mind, but it's true. Watching over you was what brought me out of…this, the first time."

"This?" Sam asked confused, regarding his brother as he tried to explain.

"The no response thing. After…after mom died, I didn't talk for three weeks, I was only four at the time so I guess it was the shock. Dad was in his own state of grief and I just sorta shut down. But watching over you broke me out of it."

Dean's mouth twitched as he recalled the memory.

"It was when you were starting to talk actually…and one afternoon I could hear you babbling away from the bed. So I raced over and climbed up beside you to see what you were saying. It was faint, but you said 'D…' He paused for effect.

Sam blanched, "As in Dean?"

Dean shook his head amused, "Uh..no. Dumbass."

"Why'd you call me a dumbass?" His brother asked, patented bitchface in place.

"Your first word was Dumbass, dumbass. When you first mumbled it, I burst out laughing and Dad said I didn't stop giggling for like, two hours. Then I tried speaking to you to see if you'd say anything else."

He deadpanned, "You're joking."

"No more lies, remember Sammy?"

Sam glared at his brother, though it didn't contain any heat. Dean rolled his eyes in return and passed by Sam to get to the kitchen.

The youngest Winchester watched him go, noticing the slow pace and hunched shoulders. Dean was exhausted and truthfully, so was he. But as cliché as it was, a weight had been lifted, it felt like he could breathe again. And he was grateful; glad that Dean was speaking and coherent again. With a wry smile, Sam headed towards the kitchen, thinking that he'd always be able to get Dean to talk. No matter the circumstances.