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He can feel it creeping like a sickness, the curse he has inside. Dulling everything he watches, like a grey filter, making everything a boring mirage of endless shades of black and white and all he can do is watch his existence become this endless stream of regrets. He questions every decision he has made, ever since he went to his brother that day at Stanford. He grabs the bottle of alcohol tighter and takes a swig feeling it burn his way through his empty stomach. He tries to fill the void, the hunger, the urge to maim, to destroy everything and give in to the Mark’s pull and just lose himself in a sea of destruction.
He wishes he could speak to Sam; he wishes he could turn back the time, even if he cannot change anything in this fucked up fixed plotline. Because now he really, really knows. Now he understands what his brother went through. If he could, if he had the patience, he would fill a list with all the things he would say to his brother.
Now he realizes how unfair he was to Sam, because he feels how every decision he makes now are just a reaction to something he has already messed up –like Sam did all those years ago. That’s why he cannot abide his brother’s patience, his forgiveness (how can he?) because if he were Sam now, with the baggage of all those years ago, he would hold on the past and extract some type of revenge. Because Dean’s sure that he deserves what he’s getting. This is punishment, this is, like Gabriel would say, “just desserts”.
He will drink until he drops, from being drunk or exhausted, he doesn’t know. But he just wishes he could just stop… stop existing, stop regretting, stop this endless cycle. Everything seems a little duller, he feels his sight grow blurry around the edges and still he raises the bottle to his lips. Willing the alcohol to be strong enough to replace the vice like grip the Mark has on him, and then maybe just rest for a while. To have peace even for one second.
His face rests against the table at the bunker and he feels the presence of his brother as the Mark flares painfully against his arm, thirsting… for blood and violence. He feels his brother, a solid presence beside him. He’s about to voice some witty rejoinder to his brother, sure that Sam will voice his disapproval as Dean drowns his existence in this sea of alcohol and despair, but Sam just stands there watching him and Dean starts to wonder what his brother might be thinking as he bites down the bitter words.
Sam gets closer to him and Dean decides to pretend he’s asleep, and he keeps still, waiting. He hears the rustle of fabric as Sam moves his arm and the right sleeve of his jacket brushes against his pants as his hand goes near Dean’s head. The Mark pulses in alarm, the curse acknowledging the size of his brother as a threat and still Dean remains still, waiting for his brother. Hoping, fearing, hoping his brother to give finally up on him. And just end up his misery. Maybe hold a knife to his heart or a gun against his head and terminate him. Monstrosity No 1. Abomination nation.
A knot rises up in Dean’s throat as he feels his brother hold two of his fingers against it, looking for a pulse, and then he hears Sam let go a relieved sigh. He cannot control the tears that well up in his eyes, but he won’t let them fall. Because his brother loves him, and hopes enough for the both of them and then some. His brother just holds Dean’s head with a gentleness he doesn’t deserve as he grabs the whole weight of Dean on his arms and then just says, “Up we go”, gathering him effortlessly in his arms as if he weighted nothing.
As little brother takes big brother to his bedroom finally, just then Dean understands.
That’s just as Dean isn’t Sam (as has been proven by his inability to emulate his living habits, his restrain, and fortitude), Sam isn’t Dean. Sam won’t hold a grudge against him for not understanding him all those years ago. But most importantly he can trust Sam not to give up on him, to hope, to forgive, to do everything in his power and then go beyond for him.
Yes he’s not Sam, but maybe for once, instead of trying to swing it until he dies fighting, maybe, maybe this time he can learn from his little brother… and trust him to keep Dean’s head afloat when he feels like drowning. If Sam could rise above all the injustice he dished out to him, maybe he can learn through him: not die swinging, but survive this curse.