“Right. Right. You're the guy that's supposed to put a bullet in Sammy's brain.” he nodded with realization, then gave the man a chiding smile, “Did you miss?”
The short haired man shot up with a hoarse yell, flailing as he tried not to fall out of bed. Jesus, that was the seventh nightmare in just as many days. When was it going to end?
He kept having…well, flashbacks would be a more appropriate word for them, but they only really came when he was sleeping.
He...he kept seeing…hearing every thing he said about Sam…to Sam…
“I chose the King of Hell over you. Maybe I was just tired of babysitting you, or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since forever. Or, maybe…maybe there’s a fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life!”
Dean gripped his short hair and pulled roughly. Shit, his voice was ringing in his head, round and round, never stopping, word after damning word.
He knew Sam said everything was good. Sam was always forgiving him when he screwed things up. Always picking up the pieces and sticking them together again.
Except this time Dean left a mountain of shattered things behind him.
And Sam still forgave him.
“…what I'm gonna do to you Sammy, well that ain't gonna be mercy either.”
Fuck, make it stop!
“So let me ask you... which one of us is really the monster, hmm?”
If it weren't for the fact that he was trying to make things better between him and Sam, he'd go find that asshole and beat the crap out of him. He should have known better than to get into the liquor Dean had stashed in his room!
Of course…he couldn't really blame him…in his little brother's defense, he had run off with Crowley on a cross-country, bar-hopping road-trip.
Dean grit his teeth, clawing at his face, trying, and failing, to distract himself. He pulled his legs in close to his chest and rocked forward.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“You never had a brother. Just an excuse for not manning up. But guess what. I quit.”
Something resembling a sob burst from his throat and then the floodgates broke. Scalding tears poured down his cheeks, dribbling over his lips, then sliding down his unshaven chin and neck. Low, broken cries escaped him, stop, stop, STOP! He just wanted it to stop!
His hoarse wails drowned out all other sounds and his bed rocked with his jerky motions. Fuck, it all! He'd try his damnedest to make things with Sam better if he could go one night without seeing how much of a bastard he'd been!
“Hey Jude, don't make it bad…”
His bed dipped and octopus-like limbs wrap around him. Dean listened to Sam's heartbeat in his ear and tried to slow his breathing down so he could hear his little brother better.
“Hey Jude, don't be afraid…”
God, this was awful. First he has a complete meltdown and now his baby brother was taking care of him. How the hell was he supposed to convince Sam everything was okay when he was a absolute mess?
“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,” he could feel Sam squeeze him tighter, “Don't carry the world upon your shoulders…”
Dean mumbled along with the tune and Sam rocked along with him. This…this was nice. Sam…Sam was trying to make things better too and that as making it easier and it was nice…really nice to have help mending his burnt bridges.
“So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,” he felt Sam hook his chin over the top of his head, “You're waiting for someone to perform with…”
His breath still hitched, but he no longer sobbed. His eyes burned, but no more tears fell. Sam rubbed his arms and hummed gently, slowing the rocking just a little.
“And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do…”
Sam rubbed his face into Dean's hair and squeezed the older man again. He was calmer now, way better than when he found him. Good. Dean shouldn't have to go through this. It…God, it's like he was flashing back to Hell again except…
Except he never found his brother in this condition.
The older man cleared his throat, “Um…thank…Thank you…”
“No problem, Dean.” he could feel Sam smiling in his hair, “You okay now?”
“Would you mind if I stayed?” Sam interrupted, blowing out a breath into his big brother's sleep mussed hair, “Still not used to sleeping by myself in my own room.”
Was Sam a mind reader or…?
“And, y'know, your mattress is nicer than mine. Definitely see why you like the whole memory foam thing. S'nice.”
“Knew you were jealous of my bed.”
Sam yawned and then flopped sideways, dragging Dean down with him, “C'mon, bro. It's like three am. Can still get a few more hours before we go have your birthday breakfast.”
“Yup. The diner down the street does all-you-can-eat waffles on Saturdays.”
“…Sweet.” Dean snuffled sleepily, “Sounds like fun.”