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It's quiet in the bunker, which is good because Dean doesn't think he could handle any extra anything at the moment.
I'm so proud of you boys.
How many times has he wished to hear those words from his father since he died, giving his soul up for Dean? How many times did he look over his left shoulder, seeking praise only to have no one there? How many times did he kneel in darkness, alone, praying to his father, asking if he was doing the right thing?
Protecting Sammy had been his sole mission since he was four years old; a mission his father had put on him and one he would have taken himself anyway. But now...
"Dean?" Sammy. Standing in the now open door, pajama pants low on his hips, shirt just a tad too small, hair messy, face pale with tear streaks.
"C'mere," Dean mumbles, lifting the covers. Sam doesn't hesitate to close the door and slide into bed with his big brother, like he did as a child after their father made them sleep in different beds and would come in, in the middle of the night anyway. And just like then, he doesn't hesitate to pull Sam into his arms, tucking his head under his chin. He feels some of the tension drain from Sam and relaxes a smidgen himself.
"I-I can't believe he is gone again," Sam chokes out, trying to hold back tears. Dean swallows hard, trying to squash his own feelings of despair and grief.
"It's better this way," he replies, feeling Sam nodding.
"It's not fair!" Sam snaps and Dean can't help the smile that curls his lips.
"It's not fair!" nine year old Sam yells at their father. John sighs, shoulders drooping. He had just gotten back from a quick salt and burn the next state over and Dean can see he is exhausted. He had come back a day early, obviously choosing to not sleep so he could come back to them.
"Sam, you need to learn to deal with some things on your own. So yes, you are going to sleep in your own bed from now on," John replies. Sam sucks in another breath, ready to fight some more when Dean steps forward.
"He's right, Sammy, but we can still sleep together tonight, alright?" he offers, eyes jumping from his dad to his brother. John frowned at Dean's suggestion but nods when Sam whips his head to see what their father would say to that.
"Fine!" Sam stomps out of the room, hands in fists.
"Thanks, Dean. I don't think I could handle a real argument right now," John says, putting a steady hand on Dean's shoulder, dark eyes warm. "I might have to leave again for another quick hunt. You'll watch out for Sam?"
"Of course, dad. You know you can count on me," Dean says, lifting his head, chest puffing out just a tad. His dad smiles at him, eyes crinkling.
"'Course I can," John replies, the ' I'm proud of you' written all over his face. And even though he has to go calm down his brother, he does so with a lifted spirit.
"No," Dean agrees, arms tightening around his brother. "But we got more than we thought we ever would."
Sam is silent, tears wetting Dean's shirt but Dean doesn't care. Suddenly Sam's sitting up, staring down at Dean with wide, desperate eyes.
"You can't leave me, De," Sam begs. The nickname from years long past had tears filling Dean's eyes, spilling over and leaving hot trails down his cheeks.
"I don't want to, Sammy," he replies, the unspoken 'but' hanging in the air. If he has to, he will, for Sammy, for mom, for the world. Michael can't be allowed to roam free again. Sam grips Dean's shirt tight and lifts him from the bed into a sitting position. Dean flinches, ready for another punch from his brother but he is only yanked into a too tight hold, bruises already settling into his skin but Dean doesn't care, he only holds Sam just as tight.
It takes him a minute to register Sam is talking, a quiet mumble, "Not gonna lose you. I'll save you," over and over. It breaks Dean's heart and he slumps into his brother, Sam automatically adjusting to hold his brother's weight. How much heart break was a person able to take?
They sit there in the dark for a while, leaning into to each other, grasping each other, not wanting to lose the other.
Then let it burn! he had roared at Bobby, so many years ago when Sam lay dead in the next room and part of him, the dark part of him, the part that had thrived in Hell, wants to let the world burn again if it meant staying with his brother.
No more words are said as the brothers finally lay down, Sam now cuddling Dean as they both tried to get a handle on their raging emotions. Dean looks up and his gaze locks with Sam's. Unspoken, an agreement is made. They would not lose each other again. They couldn't.