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“What was that about back there, Dean? ‘I’m past saving’?” Sam shook his head and sat on his bed in their motel room.
“It was the truth, Sammy. I tortured souls in Hell, and I enjoyed it. I was a frickin’ demon, okay? I’ve got the Mark of Cain, and now every time I kill I just—” Dean swallowed hard. “I like it. And I hate that I like it, but I do. I’m not someone who can be saved.”
“We can get rid of the mark. We’ve gotten past so much, we can get past this, too. I know we can. You can be saved, man.”
“And what if I’m not worth saving?” Dean snapped.
Sam recoiled as if he’d been physically hit. “How could you even say that? You know what we do. You know how many people we save, how many lives we change for the better. You put more good into the world than bad, Dean. That’s got to count for something.”
Dean sunk down onto his bed, sitting directly across from Sam. “The things I did while I was a demon, Sammy...the things that I still want to do, sometimes...it’s terrible. Those aren’t things that people can just be redeemed for. I tortured, I killed for the fun of it, I said things that I knew would break people just to see the look on their face. I’ve hurt so many people. So many that I can’t even remember half of their names.”
Sam ran a hand through his hair, contemplating his next words carefully. “Look, De. What you did as a demon wasn’t you. What you did in Hell after being tortured for decades wasn’t you. What you want to do because of the Mark, it isn’t you, either. You, at your core, Dean Winchester, are good. You’re so good.”
“And how do you know that?” Dean asked, his voice breaking slightly.
“Because I know you,” Sam said simply, and moved to sit beside Dean. Their shoulders pressed against each other. “You’re strong, and you’re brave, and you’re kind, and you’re funny, and you never put yourself first. You care about me more than you’ve ever cared about anyone else. I…” He trailed off, then took a deep breath. “I love you, man.”
“You never say that,” Dean said softly. “Not that blatantly, anyway. It’s nice to hear it.”
“Well, I do,” Sam replied, his cheeks reddening a bit. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Dean said quietly. “Like, a lot.” He turned so that he was looking Sam straight in the eyes.
“You’re not past saving,” Sam whispered, raising a hand and brushing it along Dean’s cheek. “And you’re worth saving, too.”
Dean leaned into Sam’s touch and remained silent for a moment. “You and me against the world, huh?”
“You and me against the world,” Sam affirmed. He hesitated, then leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean’s, softly and slowly. When he pulled away, his eyes were hooded, and he bit at his own lip. “Always and forever. Never givin’ up on you, big brother.”
Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, and he subconsciously licked at his own bottom lip. When he opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated. “What was that?” he asked quietly, looking at Sam intently.
“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” Sam said sheepishly, averting his gaze. “‘M sorry if the feeling isn’t reciprocated.” He groaned. “God, this is awkward. I just kissed my fucking brother.”
“Who said the feeling isn't reciprocated?” Dean asked, a hint of a smile perking up the corner of his lips. He paused for a moment before moving a few inches forward and kissing Sam once more, a bit more intensely this time.
Sam smiled against Dean’s lips, and kissed the older man back. Their lips moved together passionately, and Sam tongued at Dean’s lower lip to request access into his mouth. Dean parted his lips, and Sam licked inside his mouth, their tongues tangling together. They kissed for a few moments before Sam finally pulled away, his lips red and puffy.
“You aren’t past saving,” he whispered, stroking Dean’s face tenderly. “And you are so, so worthy.”