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“Sam!” The familiar shout falls from Dean’s mouth, a prayer sent up to ask for forgiveness. “You can’t just leave! You can’t just leave…” He sobs, watching his brother’s shoulders go limp and lifeless.
Dean forgot all about saving his brother when God himself said “No”, but he didn’t give up on his legacy. He threw himself into hunting the little things again; vampires, ghosts, the like. He grew a beard and lost a ton of weight, unable to eat without his brother beside him. Dean honed his skills as a hunter and was the most feared machine in heaven, hell, or earth. Automatic. He became automatic, draining a fifth before he starts the day and finishing another before it ends. He doesn’t forget about Sam, he does this for Sam. Fighting in his honor, not taking any thanks from a joyous family. He finishes a job and leaves as quickly as he showed up.
He doesn’t keep a knife under his pillow anymore, just a gun. He isn’t afraid of the dark because darkness is the only thing left in his life. He lost his light and gave in to the emptiness inside. He doesn’t even flinch at Sam’s name anymore, a year later, he just sets his jaw and skips to the next part of his day.
Then Sam comes back. Battered, bruised, and unforgiven by the musky earth where he had lain. He returns expecting open arms and a rushed kiss. Instead, he receives a rough slap of reality where his heart had been. He opens a sterile room, finding a thin and trained Dean lying in bed. He expects tension, but instead is given absolute ignorance. Dean ignores his presence even in the car, driving to the next city. He ignores him for three hundred miles before speaking; “Sam. Why are you back?”
Sam, taken aback, just breathes out a chocked laugh and a strangled “Uhm”. After a few minutes, he regains his speaking ability. “Well, Dean, I thought you would want me back.”
Dean sighs, glaring at the steering wheel and holding in his tears. “Yeah Sam, I didn’t want you to leave in the first fucking place.” It takes all his resolution to avoid the trap of forgiveness, and he barely manages to hold his shouts in.
“Dean. I’m sorry.” Is Sam’s simple and inadequate answer. An answer that a trained monk would detest and call shit.
“That’s not good enough this time.” His voice is hoarse, about to fall apart. “You fucking left. You died! You left and I had to stay here in this hell hole fighting to not kill myself. Do you even know how many times I almost killed myself instead of the thing I was hunting? Do you?” He yells, pulling the Impala over so he doesn’t lose control. “And then you just show back up thinking it’s going to be okay. ‘oh, dean will be so freaking excited to see me. I bet he’s been counting the days ‘till I came back.’ You’re right I did! Every fucking day I counted. I counted until it became a kill count, a near miss count, a why am I still alive count. Sam! You can’t just waltz back in and think I’m okay! We’re codependent, and that ruined my life! I haven’t been okay since day four when Chuck told me he wouldn’t bring you back.”
Dean gets out of the car, slamming his door and sliding down the side. The tears streaming angrily down his face. “Maybe you should just leave. I can’t be around you.” He whispers, his face between his knees.
Sam kneels in front of him, forcing his chin up. “I am not leaving.” He answers firmly, looking directly into his brother’s eyes. He uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe Dean’s cheeks. “I am not going to leave like that again, and if you knew how horrible it is to crawl out of the empty, you would believe me. It’s worse than staying there. At least when you stay contently you don’t have the others after you. All they do is keep you there.” He kisses Dean’s lips softly, a question of forgiveness. A question of hope. A question of necessity, a whispered “Can I stay?”. And when Dean kisses him back, Sam knows they’ll be okay.