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"All right, Sammy," Dean said, walking over to the TV and shutting it off. "We can't put it off any longer. Your feet stink. You need a bath."
Sam looked up at him with a hurt expression. Sam hated being told what to do.
"Oh, don't even start." Dean walked over and knelt down in front of Sam. "You can catch up with the housewives later."
Dean began to peel off Sam's socks. "Can you wait here while I shut off the water?"
Sam nodded. As soon as Dean was out of sight, Sam grabbed the remote and turned the TV back on.
Dean tested the temp. It was a little hot so he turned on the cold tap and stirred the water around. When it was right, he shut the water back off. He double checked his supplies. He had towels, washcloths, and a cup for rinsing Sam. He was set.
He got up and went back to the living room. The cabin that Bobby had set them up with offered them plenty of space. The living room left a bit to be desired though. The furniture was rough. But it was homey.
Dean smiled when he saw Sam. He had a shit-eating grin on his face. The TV was back on, and the remote was on his lap.
"You're funny, you know that?" Dean said.
Sam giggled to himself.
"All right, big boy, time to get you up." Dean walked over to Sam and offered him a hand up. Sam took his proffered hand and pulled himself up to stand.
Dean turned and grabbed the remote, flipping the TV back off. "If you're good, you can watch all you want after your bath."
"Thanks, De," Sam said.
De had come to replace Dean's name sometime after the accident. When Sam had first woke and starting speaking, he asked for De and after that, it just kind of stuck.
Baths were much easier than showers; they had come to realize that early on after leaving the hospital. Sam was just too big for Dean to help standing. The few times they tried it, Dean got drenched and Sam got frustrated. There just wasn't enough room for the two of them to work.
Once they were in the bathroom, Dean helped Sam to undress. It was something Dean tried to do in a way that kept as much of Sam's dignity as possible, although he could always tell from Sam's expression that the gesture fell short of its mark.
He helped Sam step over the edge of the tub and into the water. Dean helped lower Sam into the water.
"There, that wasn't so bad," Dean said, reaching for the shampoo. "Can you lie back for me?"
Sam looked at him and then nodded. He did his best to scrunch himself up in the tub so his head was in the water.
Dean slipped a hand under Sam's neck to support him and then guided him back up. He put a dollop of shampoo in his hand and then began to work it into Sam's hair.
Once it was lathered well, he placed a hand on the back of Sam's neck. "Tilt your head back for me."
Sam complied and Dean grabbed the cup. He scooped up a cupful of water and rinsed Sam's hair. He repeated the process until all the soap was gone.
"Okay, you can look down again."
Sam blinked and scrunched up his face, shaking his head. Dean could see the panic on his features.
"Shit," Dean cursed. He'd gotten water in Sam's eyes. He quickly grabbed a towel and dabbed at Sam's face. Sam tried to move away. "Easy, I've got you."
Sam calmed at the sound of Dean's voice, and he let him finish wiping his face.
"Sorry," Sam said.
"You didn't do anything, Sammy. It was my fault. I'm sorry."
Tears were brimming in Sam's eyes, and Dean wished he could take away his brother's pain, his frustration at being trapped in a body that held him captive.
Sam hung his head and let Dean finish washing him.
Dean reached down and pulled the drain.
Once the water began to drain away, Dean bent over the tub and threaded his arms under Sam's. He helped him out of the tub.
He grabbed a towel and began to dry Sam off.
"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"
Sam shook his head and looked away.
"Hey, what's wrong, Sam?"
Sam shrugged and hung his head. Dean ducked his head to meet Sam's gaze.
"I … I'm broken, De."
The simple words hit Dean hard, like a sucker punch to the gut. He sucked in a breath. "No, Sammy. No. You listen to me; you are not broken."
A tear rolled down Sam's cheek, and he wrapped his arms around himself.
Dean reached up and grabbed Sam's head, pulling him down into his shoulder. "It's okay, Sammy. It's okay. It's gonna be okay."
And Dean hoped that if he said it enough it would be.
"Come on, Sammy. The housewives are calling. Let's get you dressed."
Dean helped Sam get his clothes on and his shirt buttoned. "There, you look good."
Sam smiled wanly. "Thanks."
"Why don't we go get you settled in the living room so I can cleanup?"
Sam nodded. "'Kay."
Once Dean had him comfortable, he went back to the bathroom and cleaned up the mess of clothes and towels.
Dean heard a giggle from the living room and smiled. Sam was happy again and that's all that mattered.