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Dean stares down the barrel of Sam's gun, waiting for recognition to flash in his brother's eyes.
Sam is sleeping with a gun beneath his pillow in the bunker. A loaded gun, with the safety off, directly to hand. That's how much Dean scares him these days.
Maybe it's good, Dean scaring him. Someone should be scared of what Dean's becoming, and Dean is just too fucking tired to be that someone.
The only thing that scares Dean is the sharp spike of relief he gets from looking down the barrel of a gun with Sam's rock-steady hand holding it.