sasha_dragon | He Ain't Heavy, (1/1) PG-13, Sam, Dean. (Reply)

Title: He Ain’t Heavy.
Word Count: 2235
Rating: PG-13,
Summary: After a battle fought and won and no matter how long Sam and Dean have been apart, some things will never change. A missing scene from Exile On Main Street.
Pairing: None, just brotherly love
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural, lord knows I wish I did, these wonderful boys are now Sera’s do with as she wishes. Although I think she still has to ask Eric for permission to play rough with them.
Warnings: Heavy duty spoilers for episode 1 season 6! If you haven’t seen it please move along, thank you.
Notes: This missing scene came about because of I wanted to see some comfort and it helped me to come to an understanding of where Sam’s heart and mind are at the moment. Please do not take this as gospel this is only my opinion and others will have done it better. As always many thanks go to bigj52 my truly awesome beta and images for my banner are from, moondropz .

When Samuel told him to go to Dean, Sam ran as if he was being pursued by a pack of Hell Hounds. He crashed into the neighbour’s house to find Dean lying pale and shivering on the floor. Shit, by the looks of Dean they had doubled the dose and he saw that one syringe of antidote had been smashed on the floor. He searched round desperately for the other syringe and saw it sticking out from under the couch where it had rolled. Sam ran over and carelessly upended the piece of furniture. Grabbing the syringe, he snatched it up and rapidly inserted the needle into Dean’s chest, injecting the contents into his heart.

The convulsions slowed a little but Sam could still see the rapid movement of Dean’s eyes beneath his eyelids; he knew that Dean would need more antidote. Sam pulled Dean up over his shoulder, standing as quickly as he could, carefully carrying his brother out of the house in a fireman’s lift.

Sam brought him into the home he shared with Lisa and Ben and looked round for another syringe of the antidote. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw the Campbell’s had left one behind. Sam very carefully slid Dean from his shoulder and laid him on the couch. He reached towards the syringe, snagging it with the tips of his fingers as he didn’t want to take his hand from Dean’s chest. The feeling of his heart beating beneath his hand reminded him that his brother was still with him.

Once again Sam injected his brother, now all he could do was wait for the poison to work its way out of Dean’s system. Sam crouched, watching his brother’s features that twitched and spasmed with pain and fear. He was sweating from the fever the poison had induced.

“Ok, Dean, let’s get you more comfortable then, shall we?” Sam stripped his own jacket off first and then pulled Dean into a sitting position, resting him against his shoulder; he felt Dean’s warm breath ghosting over his neck as he pulled his jacket off. Sam winced a little at the heat pouring off his brother’s skin as his forehead rested against him. He would have to try and lower the fever to help Dean get over the poison as quickly as possible. Once the jacket was off Sam gently laid him down, putting some cushions under his head.

It had been a long time since Sam had been this gentle with anyone, even the other hunters in his group had never seen this side of Sam. All they knew was the frighteningly efficient killing machine he’d become, brushing off injuries, both his own and others. They would never believe that the man who carefully removed the boots of the unconscious man and made him comfortable was the same one who took out a family of werewolves without a moment’s pause.

Sam stood up and frowned down at his brother, watching his fretful sleep, “You never could do things the easy way, Dean. Hang on. I’ll be back in a minute.” Sam moved swiftly round the house, gathering supplies. A blanket for when the fever broke so Dean wouldn’t be too cold then came a bowl of tepid water with a washcloth to help with the fever. The antidote should prevent it from becoming too high, but there was no reason to let Dean suffer any more than he had to.

Sam settled himself beside his brother to wait. He opened his shirt a little to allow him easier access and to help cool him down then he began to slowly wipe down Dean’s overheated skin. He placed the cloth on Dean’s forehead, listening to the soft whimper of discomfort it brought, “It’s alright, Dean, relax, I got you.” Just the sound of Sam’s voice helped to ease Dean’s distress.

Sam listened to Dean’s softly whispered pleas to monsters that only existed in his head and he listened to the words Dean uttered, “Lisa....no...Sorry...I didn’t mean....You bastard, leave Ben alone.....No, don’t, please” The words slurred and faded away and he moaned in pain. Sam rested his hand on his brother’s, stroking his thumb back and forth as he continued to bathe the now fever-dry skin.

Sam gave a sad smile listening to his brother’s words, remembering his actions from earlier when he’d grabbed the antidote and gone to help friends who were already dead. That was Dean; he hunted from the heart not the head which wasn’t to say Dean wasn’t an amazing hunter because he was. His instincts were razor sharp and Dean was one hell of a tactician. As always, at the heart of what Dean did were the victims.

Sam was taken back to a clearing in Blackwater Ridge, Colorado when Dean had looked at him holding their father’s journal as if it was a holy book and said the words, “Saving people...hunting things, the family business.” It was as simple as that for Dean, saving people. If you were to ask Sam what his priorities were now he would respond, “Hunting things, saving people.” Hell changed you, there was no escaping that. Now for Sam it was all about the hunt, killing as many evil sons of bitches as he could.

Dean would always deny this but he cared more about the victims than he would ever admit. He took every death as a personal insult and he mourned them. True, it might be by drinking too much or starting another bar fight but Dean had mourned them all in his way. He felt way too much. Sam only ever had to look into his eyes to see that, and even after Dean’s time in Hell it had been the same; he shared their pain, but would never express it.

That’s where Sam had changed. His emotions were much more buried now; he no longer wore his heart on his sleeve. In fact, it felt as if his heart was encased by a block of ice. Sometimes it felt as if he was looking at the world through tinted glass, the colours were faded and the sounds muffled. Sam felt disconnected from people and he felt better for that, and then after the Djinn attack he had gone for Dean. And it was as if the glass was clearing, Dean brought the colours back. Now they were sharper and clearer. Sam heard the words of others more and felt as if there was a thawing in the ice round his heart. That’s what Dean did, he made you care. That’s who he was - a force of nature dulled by the world Sam had pushed him into.

When he told Sam he had searched for a way to bring him out of Hell he’d been shocked. He thought Dean had the perfect life. Sam had made sure he had a family, but to hear Dean had been trying to get him out? Maybe Sam’s decision to just leave Dean alone had not been as right as he thought, but there were things Sam had needed to do without Dean. He had to see what kind of hunter he would be without his brother. It turned out he was a damn good hunter but there had been something missing, a hole in his life. That hole had been Dean, Dean forced him to connect with the world, chick flick or not he made you care.

Now Sam had to listen for his brother calling out for other people, he felt a pang of jealousy. In another life the only name on Dean’s lips would’ve been Sam’s. But now there were others. Dean loved Lisa and Ben and to be loved by Dean....Dean loved with his whole being, with every breath he took. You were the centre of his universe, and Sam had found that suffocating. That’s why he had fled to Stanford and why in part he had not fetched Dean when he came back. Now he realized he missed the warmth of Dean’s love and once more his heart began to freeze.

Sam had continued to mop Dean’s brow as he fought the poison in his system. The convulsions had ceased but his body was wracked with tremors and Sam knew Dean would ache in the morning from the stress his muscles were under. Suddenly Dean gripped Sam’s wrist tightly and Sam flinched at the strength of his grip. He’d forgotten how strong Dean was. Dean’s eyes shot open, burning fever bright and they fixed right on Sam.

Sam watched his brother’s face as he searched Sam’s. There was a look of longing as he drank in the familiar features, Dean’s lips moved but there was no sound. Then Sam watched as a tear slipped down Dean’s face and grief contorted his features. “You’re not real, I know you’re not real but God, I wish you were. Sammy....I’m so sorry. I should’ve been better, fought harder to keep you out of Hell. It was all my fault this happened... I failed you, Sam, no wonder you didn’t want me back. You’re better off with hunters who know what they’re doing, you are better off without me.....God, I miss you, Sam. I never stopped missing you. I love Lisa and Ben but this was never my life...I just wish I could’ve been better.” Dean gave a gasp of pain. Sam wasn’t sure if it was due to his physical pain or the fact he’d just watched his brother’s heart break.

Sam felt his own throat constrict as he tried to speak “Relax, Dean, it’s just a dream. I’m here. I’m waiting for you to get better. Come on, man, don’t make me go chick flick on you.” The words rang hollow in Sam’s ears, he didn’t think he could ever be chick flick ever again. Damnit, he needed Dean; he needed Dean more than ever. Not just as a hunting partner but as his connection to the rest of humanity. Sam felt disconnected. He wanted the connection back and Dean was his best hope of that. In the morning when Dean was better, he would ask him to come with him, back to the life. Dean would have to leave Lisa and Ben. After all, his old life had caught up to him. He would be putting them in danger and Dean would never do that to anyone he loved.

Sam was still worried about Dean. He’d been hit with three doses of Djinn poison in as many days; God knew what it was doing to his body. Dean shuddered again and curled up into a ball on the couch, panting harshly as another wave of pain crashed through his body and his muscles cramped. He still gripped Sam’s wrist as if he was the only thing anchoring Dean to this place. Sam moved closer and without thought rubbed circles on Dean’s back, waiting for him to relax.

Finally Dean sagged and the muscles cramps ceased. Sam watched Dean’s features relax as the poison had reached its zenith and now Dean was starting to come down. Sam was relieved to see sweat appear on Dean’s forehead. He gently wiped at his face, happy to see more sweat appearing. It was then Sam realized he was being watched, a pair of bloodshot eyes were watching him. Sam gave Dean a smile, “Are you back with me, dude? I was beginning to think I was gonna have to give you a sponge bath.”

Dean gave a faint shudder and rolled his eyes, “Over my dead body, Florence. Shit! Did you get the number of the semi that ran me over?” Dean’s voice was a croaking wreck; he licked at dry, cracked lips and shifted to get comfortable. “What am I doing down here?”

Sam stood up and smiled before pulling the blanket down to cover him, “You’re down here because your ass is too damn heavy to carry upstairs. Now just relax, I’ll go and get you some water.”

“Too heavy? I’ll have you know this body is a temple. Besides Sasquatch, you could probably carry me and Bobby upstairs without breaking a sweat.” Dean gave a weak smile, his eyes slipping shut as he fought against sleep.

Sam laughed, “Yeah, a temple for Dionysus to use like Disneyland. Get some rest, Dean, I’ll be here.” Dean gave a slow nod and went still. Sam picked up the bowl and took it back to the kitchen; he wasn’t worried about the fever returning. Dean was strong, he’d beat it. Sam found where the glasses were kept and ran the cold water. As he waited to fill the glass he looked over to the neighbour’s house. He knew they would have to do something to make sure there would be no problems but he was sure that he and Dean would do that before they left. Once the glass was filled with cold water Sam returned to where his brother lay.

Sam looked down at his sleeping brother. He thought about waking him to give him some water but decided to let him rest. Instead, he put the glass down nearby in case Dean woke up and wanted a drink. With that, Sam sat in a chair and settled down to wait for the morning, and in the morning? Well, that was easy. He and Dean would hit the road again, together.