Chapter Text
Dean was asleep in bed when Sam crept out the door. It was almost sunrise and he had somewhere to be. He grabbed his bag and Dean’s keys and headed out. When he reached the valley, he parked the Impala and began walking toward the waterfall.
Enochian was a foreign language to him, but he chanted the keys as best he could. It took longer than he expected, but it worked. An angel appeared. Not Cas. Cas was not who he needed right now. The angel was unsmiling and for a moment, Sam thought he’d made a mistake. But this was for Dean who had suffered Hell, and Hell on Earth.
Sam found his voice. “I came here to make a deal”, he said. The angel laughed, then frowned. “I’m listening.”
Sam cleared his throat and tried to focus. “You can make people forget things. I need you to do that for my brother”.
“For your brother? The same brother who served demons? The Winchester name is known above the Earth, just as it is known below it. What does your brother deserve but God’s most swift retribution? What would you give in return?”
It was hard to mask his anger. His abuse at Dean’s hands had worn him down. “ He’s made some mistakes, but he’s not evil and we both know it. He’s just...broken. If I were trapped in Hell, maybe I’d have done the same thing. Knowing what he’s done, the suffering he caused, is killing him and he doesn’t deserve that. I can’t watch him suffer like this.”
The angel folded his arms across his chest. “ I’ve yet to hear a proposal, Sam Winchester. If this boon is granted, what will be given in its stead?”
His hands began to tremble. Sam balled his hands into fists at his sides to stop the shaking. Everything in him resisted what he said next with tear stained cheeks and closed eyes. “Me.”
“I don’t understand”.
He turned his back to the angel and spoke. “Give us one week together, then erase me from his memory. Every terrible thing he did to me. And I’ll walk out of his life. And he’ll go back to being a hunter, cleaning up the evil messes God doesn’t see fit to dirty His hands with. And so will I”.
The angel paced for some time, seemingly in deep thought. Just as Sam was dreaming of wringing his neck, he stopped.
“One day. At this time tomorrow, you and your brother will become as strangers. But if you search for him, God will turn a blind eye to his suffering and he will remember his sins. Be true to your word, Sam Winchester or your brother’s suffering will be lain at your doorstep when you are judged.”
Sam ran and didn’t look back. He was out of breath when he reached the Impala. He drove like a bat out of hell, back to the motel. One day. Not enough time.
*****
Dean was still asleep when he got back. There was always a chance that he was taking his life in his hands waking Dean. He still had vivid nightmares and he was a beast without enough sleep. But Sam wasn’t interested in wasting time. He put a quarter into the slot on Dean’s bed and pressed the massage button. In no time, Dean was awake. And he hadn’t started the day with that morose look on his face.
Sam grinned. “Get up. We’re going on a road trip”, he announced. Dean hurled a pillow at Sam. “This better be good”, he groaned, sitting up. “I was at the Playboy Mansion this time”.
Sam chuckled. “Dude, if you wanna stay here with your Playboy bunnies, go ahead. I’m going to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame”.
With that, Dean bolted out of bed and into the shower. Relief washed over Sam. For a change, his brother was in a good mood. He needed for it to stay that way. They were losing time already.
Unbuttoning his shirt, Sam took in the scar across his abdomen. Now a pale silvery pink, it had started as an angry red cross. It had hurt like hell the first time it got infected. He traced it, amazed at how there was no pain now. He had forgiven Dean for it a long time ago, but his brother refused to forgive himself.
He heard a sharp intake of breath from across the room. Shit. Dean was staring at him. At his scar. Quickly, Sam began to button his shirt. He felt like a little kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dean didn’t need to see this.
“Sorry”, Sam mumbled. For a minute, Dean looked at him with such shame and confusion, it broke his heart. Then stoic, hostile Dean was back. “Move your ass, Sam. I’m driving.”
They gathered their bags and left the motel in their rear view. Dean drove. Sam slept. He’d been up most of the night, going over the summoning chants, terrified of missing sunrise.
*****
Sam’s head rested on his shoulder. It felt awkward and wrong. How could Sam even trust him enough to fall asleep on him? Dean cursed under his breath. He felt like a royal fucking failure every time he looked at Sam.
Sam had that fucking peace. In his eyes. Almost like forgiveness. But his brother’s forgiveness was something Dean had no right to expect. He’d never ask for it. The idea itself was treason.
With every smile, every friendly gesture, Sam devastated Dean. He was a monster, pure evil and why his brother let him live baffled him. Sometimes, when he woke in a cold sweat, screaming, he suspected Sam liked it better this way. It was more torturous for Dean.
After Castiel had freed Sam and healed Dean as best he could, that was when the real hell started. When Dean realized what he’d done and what he’d lost. Sam drank. So did he. Sam didn’t sleep. It got so bad, Sam started to hallucinate. One night, he grabbed the keys and took off.
Didn’t come back for days. When he came back, he sharpened his knives and cleaned his guns all day. But he slept at night. With his door locked and a chair against the door and a gun under his pillow, but still. He started to eat again.
Eventually, he stopped carrying a gun everywhere when they were at the house. Then he’d even sit in the same room as Dean. But it took a whole month before he’d allow Dean within striking distance. Even then, Sam flinched if Dean moved too fast, sat too close or if he didn’t hear him coming.
Through it all, Dean did everything he could to try and fix it. He kept his temper in check. Let Sam douse him with holy water whenever he needed to. Let Sam keep their arsenal in his room. Holed up in his own room when his presence scared Sam. Whistled when he came into a room, just so Sam would know he was there.
After that, Sam told him to stop whistling. He moved the chair away from his bedroom door and unlocked it when he slept. Gave Dean half their weapons. Even sat on the same couch. And knowing he was regaining Sam’s trust should have been a mercy. But in its own way, that was worse.
He had to restrain himself from touching Sam. Running his fingers through Sam’s hair, pulling him close and saying sorry every way he knew how. Every day more light came back to Sam’s eyes. With every wound that healed and every brief smile that graced Sam’s face, Dean had to fight so much harder.
*****
Sam stirred. Sometimes he talked in his sleep. Usually, it was “No” or “Don’t” or “Stop”. This time Sam murmured a sleepy “I love you”. Dean nearly drove into oncoming traffic.
Dean gritted his teeth. “Don’t”.
******
Dean had been giving him strange looks all day, but Sam didn’t care. Seeing Dean smile and laugh, for real, made his heart swell. Made him smile and laugh for real too. He pushed away thoughts of what it would cost them, how much he would pay tomorrow.
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was everything they had expected and Dean could scarcely contain his excitement. After that, they had hit up “Night of 1000 Covers” at a local bar. Somewhere in between, they found a diner which had what Dean proclaimed were the second best cheeseburgers in the world, after he had already devoured chili cheese fries and a chocolate shake with blatant disregard for his own life.
At some point, Dean was going to become suspicious. But he was having such a good time, it took longer than Sam thought. When Sam told him to pull into the Hilton, he was confused. Sam tried to be nonchalant. “Look, I already booked a room. It won’t kill us to stay somewhere nice for a change. But if you wanna stay somewhere with shitty water pressure and mysterious stains, I’m sure we can find something like that.”
Dean had stopped drumming along to AC/DC on the steering wheel. Now his eyes were laser focused on his brother. He could feel himself becoming defensive, angry, even a little scared. “Ya know, that’s just it Sam. This whole fucking day has been a little too nice. So why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”, he snarled.
Sam tried to laugh off his brother’s anxiety. “Normal people call it a vacation, Dean. And I know you’re dying to make a joke about spending the night in a Hilton, so let’s put this thing in park, skip the chick flick moment and have a good time”.
Dean’s response was a mumbled “Christo” and throwing holy water in Sam’s face. Sam shoved his wet hair out of his face, sputtering, “You wanna get the silver dagger or should I?” Dean was silent, still watching Sam out of the corner of his eye.
Sam unbuckled his seatbelt and went to get out of the car. Dean grabbed Sam’s forearm, dagger in hand. Things were going sideways a little, but Sam had expected this. He stared hard at Dean, and when he spoke, he sounded more sure of himself than he truly was. “Dude, you’re not actually gonna play Iron Chef on me with that thing. Nothing bad is gonna happen. Call Cas if you want”.
Dean loosened his grip slightly. He was still watching Sam like a hawk, weighing his options. And suddenly it dawned on Dean why Sam didn’t seem enthused about his brother with a knife, inches away from him.
“Sorry”, he mumbled. And there it was again, that look anyone else, anyone who didn’t know him inside out and backwards would miss. Shame and confusion.
Sam chuckled and slapped his brother on the back. “Way to ruin the moment, man. Can we please check in now? I think our room has a hot tub”. They got out of the Impala and grabbed their bags.
The whole damn thing made Dean uneasy. No way this was leading up to something good. He was a monster. Sam was a good liar, but he hated him. He deserved whatever torture Sam threw at him.
******
The pretty redhead at the check-in desk smiled when she saw Sam. She came out from behind the massive desk and gave him a hug. She spoke with a lilting Irish brogue. “ You’re a sight for sore eyes, my boy. Staying out of trouble, I hope?”, she purred, laughing. The woman released him and her focus shifted to Dean.
“You must be Sam’s partner. I booked you two the honeymoon suite. Any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine. Deirdre Fitzpatrick,” she said by way of introduction, embracing Dean.
Sam cleared his throat. “Dee, this is Dean. My brother”.
Deirdre laughed once more. “Just as well for him”. She cocked her head in Sam’s direction and looked at Dean, who was trying to regain his composure. “This one’ll break your heart if you give him half a chance”. She handed the room key to Sam and sent the boys on their way, promising to catch up with Sam tomorrow.
“You wanna explain what that was about?” Dean asked in the elevator.
Sam grinned. “When you were gone, I helped Deirdre’s family break their curse. She was really...grateful. So was her brother. And you can stop making that face, ‘cause it wasn’t the same night”, he explained.
Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus. You think you know a guy. Guess some of my charm finally rubbed off on you, huh Sammy?”
They finally arrive on the fifteenth floor and found their room. There was indeed a hot tub, along with an icy bucket containing a bottle of champagne and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries.
For a minute, Sam just stood there remembering. That howling, soul-destroying, can’t eat, can’t sleep hurt when he lost Dean. And more pain when Dean found him. Another scar sewn up hastily because for months he hadn’t fallen asleep with Dean wrapped around him breathing steady, dead to the world but still protecting him. Dean hadn’t offered and he almost couldn’t bring himself to ask.
******
He wished he could hate Sam. But the void inside him wasn’t Sam’s fault, it was his own. He had gladly spilled Sam’s blood with his own hands. Castiel had given him a million reasons why it wasn’t his fault, but Dean refused to believe him. The instant he’d spilled his brothers blood, he had forfeited any right to Sam’s love and affection. It ate at him every goddamn day. More than anything, Dean wanted what they had before he died. But he couldn’t bring himself to touch Sam. It would hurt too much when Sam turned him away.
******
Dean startled when he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder. “Well, partner, you can stay here and stare at the wall all night, but that hot tub is calling my name”, he said slyly. Sam pulled off his shoes and socks, then took off his shirt. There was a splash as Sam settled in the water.
As the jets massaged his back, Sam realized this was going to be a little harder than he thought. He’d have to swallow his pride and just ask. If Dean said no, well, he carried worse scars than rejection. And Dean would finally be free of what was slowly destroying him.
Sam was half-asleep when Dean mustered up the courage to join him. “Why?” Sam opened his eyes and smiled. “There’s a long answer and a short one. Either way it’s gonna be a chick flick moment. Still wanna know?” Dean nodded.
“I forgave you a long time ago--”. Dean winced and moved to get out of the tub. “I’m not done. You’re gonna sit here and listen until I’m finished. You owe me that, Dean”.
“I wasn’t lying when I said you couldn’t make me hate you. I forgave you and you don’t have to believe that, but it’s true. And watching you turn yourself inside out over what happened, watching you hate yourself, makes me sick. You never lost me, man.”
Sam drew his brother close to him. Dean was pale, breathing hard.
******
Blood rushing in his ears like the crash of waves on rocks, like an inferno. Can’t breathe. Heart beating like a jackhammer or maybe a grenade, pin just pulled out and itching to explode. Pins and needles, itching all over and he can’t get out of his skin. He has to push it away; it has to fade into the background if he’s going to get away.
Dean feels sick (desperate) sick (wrong) sick (bile) as he looks at Sam, eyes slit like a cats, stomach churning. Damned if he was gonna let Sam see him like this, feeling like a fucking strip mine inside. He can do this if he just stops shaking. So he concentrates and stands up and gets out of the tub. And everything he wants to say dies before he can open his mouth, so he wraps a towel around himself and turns his back on his brother and shuts the door.
He fumbles for his clothes, hears the faint sound of water splashing through the door. Tries to get dressed in a way that doesn’t seem frantic, but couldn’t be called anything else. Grabs the keys and Sam opens the door and fuck, he’s still going along with this bad joke he decided to inflict on Dean. Sam looks sad, nostalgic even, but serene and so fucking sincere Dean can’t look at him.
“Nothing’s gonna save me”. It shouldn’t come out that strangled and it shouldn’t ring so true.
******
Sam doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised. He just starts talking again like what just happened didn’t happen. “You don’t have to say anything. But listen; you’re gonna wake up tomorrow morning and I won’t be here. You won’t remember me. I made a deal and that was what it cost me and it’s worth it. Because you always took care of me and never made me believe you were meant for anything but that”.
“I wanted more time with you, but this is all I got. And you’ve given more of yourself for me than I ever had a right to ask, but I gotta ask for one more thing. Believe me. And let me say goodbye”.
Dean’s eyes dart around the room because he does believe Sam and all the words he wants to say and thoughts he tries to hold onto are floating away and he’s a gaping wound. He wasn’t on his knees a minute ago, worn denim against expensive carpet and his eyes weren’t burning, tears weren’t coming. He chokes out a sound that is SamGodsorryhelpplease that gets muffled by Sam’s broad tanned chest, eaten up by Sam’s hot skin against his face, swallowed up by Sam’s steady heart beat, holding him like Sam’s arms are doing right now.
Sam rocks him and makes soothing noises, keeps telling him “I know” and “It’s okay” and then it is okay. Dean feels peace radiating from his brother, who is giving him a shy smile that starts behind those long girl eyelashes of his, looking ageless and brand new at the same time as he pulls them both into a standing position.