Chapter Text
They all heard the thunder rumble, saw the lighting flash across the sky. One of them was dead. Sam swallows as he hears boots thudding down the stairs of the barn. It’s Dean, he’d know those footsteps anywhere. He glances at Crowley and Castiel, seeing cautious relief in their faces. For a wild moment, Sam is afraid he’s going to laugh despite his stomach being in knots. A hunter, an angel, and a demon all waiting with bated breath for a man with a curse nearly as old as God to come down those stairs, hoping they won’t have to kill him to get the First Blade from him. The wild urge to laugh fades as quickly as it had come when Dean steps into view.
Sam’s breath quickens. Dean looks terrible. He heard the thuds and shouts from above, but he didn’t realize how those sounds translated to what he saw on Dean. Cuts and bruises all over his face, limping, but more than that, he looks destroyed, like something is tearing him apart from the inside. Sam steps forward cautiously, Castiel doing the same.
“Dean?” Sam asks softly. His brother doesn’t look at him.
“Dean, the blade?” Crowley says, holding out his hand. Dean looks at the First Blade, coated in Cain’s blood, gripped in his hand. Dean gasps for breath, his hand trembling. He takes a step towards Crowley. To the demon’s credit, he doesn’t back away, though there’s a terrible moment where the two men stare at each other and Sam is certain Dean is going to gank Crowley. Crowley’s face is working up to a smirk when Dean extends the blade hilt first, but not to him. He narrows his eyes as Dean shakily passes the blade to Cas, who instinctively reaches for it, moving to stand behind Dean.
“You lied to me,” Crowley says, lifting his eyebrows.
“Wouldn’t be the first time today,” Dean responds softly, but there is none of his usual bite behind it. He stares at the demon in front of him, looking near tears as he continues. Crowley tilts his head to the side.
“Cain’s list? You weren’t on it,” Dean says. In the next moment, Crowley’s gone. With Crowley’s departure, he wavers on his feet, green eyes filling with tears, before his legs give out. Sam steps forward and catches him, holding his brother tightly. One arm is around Dean, holding him up, and the other cups the back of his head. Dean’s hands fist in the back of Sam’s jacket as he cries.
“It’s okay,” Sam whispers. “You did it. Dean, you did it.” Sam meets Cas’s gaze. He can hardly bear the outright despair in Cas’s eyes. He tucks his chin into Dean’s shoulder, just like he would when he was a little kid and Dean would hold him when he was upset.
Dean gasps, trying to keep it together, but Sam feels Dean’s tears soaking the neck of his shirt.
“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam whispers over and over, adjusting his arms so he’s the one cradling his brother this time.
“It’s okay.”
*******
It’s the middle of the night when Sam is awoken by his brother’s scream. He bolts upright, scrambling for the gun he keeps on his nightstand. He barely processes where he’s going, his bare feet finding the familiar halls to his brother’s room. As he clears the hallways, he hears another gut wrenching scream, this time his name. His heart pounds in time with his hurried footsteps.
“SAM!” Dean screams. Fear slides like ice through his veins as Sam kicks open Dean’s door pointing the gun around the room, the hallway light flooding the room, only to find Dean on his bed. When he realizes Dean is having a nightmare, his gun and stomach drop.
Dean’s sheet is tucked tightly around his lower body, which is drawn tight, except for his right arm, which is extended straight out to display the Mark of Cain. Sweat shines on Dean’s face and throat as he struggles against his mind.
God, Dean…I’m so sorry, Sam thinks. He can only imagine what his brother is seeing right now. Sam shifts his weight, unsure of what to do. Dean gasps, his hands clenched into fists, his face twisted like he’s in pain. Sam bites down his lip hard, knowing waking Dean could be much worse than leaving him be, but still wanting desperately to comfort his big brother.
Finally, Dean’s body relaxes a bit, his breathing starting to even out. Sam watches his brother, breathing in the room’s scent of leather and apples. Sam stays another half hour, his pistol clasped loosely in his hand, standing guard against whatever is tormenting his brother, but it seems the nightmares have had their fill for tonight. Sam turns and quietly exits Dean’s room, tugging the door shut behind him. Sam leans his back against the door and sighs, suddenly drained. He’s so exhausted he can’t even think.
Don’t worry, Dean, Sam thinks before pushing off from Dean’s door.
I will find a way to save you.