Tag to "The Purge"

A/N: I couldn't let that ep end like it did. So sick of the angst fest Supernatural has been wallowing in of late. I miss the good old days. It just feels like the boys are winding up to go and die or something. You only get one life though and no matter how hard the road is, every step of the journey is worth it. This fic is an exploration of all the things Dean and Sam just aren't saying of late and probably more my reaction than theirs.

"Before We Say Goodbye"

Sometimes your heart

It feels so far away

Sometimes our lives are night and day

It always seems there's something out there better

Who knows?

Before we say goodbye

Take a breath and think about it

You're the one who makes me feel

Ten stories high

I'll survive and stay alive and

Take a look down deep inside

Before we say goodbye

Sometimes my world I feel it sweep away

I hear your name and I feel safe

Sometimes we dream of another life we're missing

But who knows?

Before we say goodbye

Take a breath and think about it

You're the one who makes me feel

Ten stories high

I'll survive and stay alive and

But I need to know why

Before we say goodbye

Lyrics by Shannon Noll

The silence settles over the bunker like a long lost friend. Though for the last year it has been broken by the quiet, although just as often loud comings and goings of several people, it happily returns to that silent existence it had maintained for nigh on 50 years prior to their arrival.

For Sam, the silence is welcome at first. It signals peace. Granted, it is a tired, somewhat melancholy sort of peace but it is the perfect kind of peace to let him just sit and read for hours undisturbed.

In the aftermath of that brutally honest, unhappy conversation he'd shared with his brother, Sam is wise enough to leave Dean be. After all this time he understands his own brother probably as well as he is ever going to and Dean more than needs the time to reflect. Sam feels a small stab of guilt at his brother's hurt and he knows it's immense. He could see it in Dean's eyes, whether he'd admit it or not which he hadn't of course.

Dean had picked up his glass, grabbed the bottle and quietly left. That was the last Sam had seen of his brother for three days.

He heard Dean moving around the bunker: venturing to the loo a couple of times a day while Sam read at the kitchen table and plodding down the stairs to the basement and back up. It's a little strange at first that Dean hasn't taken off completely but Sam puts that down to the luxury of the bunker. A painful conversation and whether one or both parties end up emotionally wounded, well it's easy enough to take time out from one another. The place is simply that big.

It's only on the fifth night while Sam's lying in bed that he realises he hasn't heard Dean all day. Once that thought surfaces, it won't leave him alone.

He sighs instead and throws off the covers. He was getting bored anyway. Might as well go and make the peace now and see if they can't go out and do something tomorrow. Sam is at that point where he's past contentment and now he's restless. It's not a pleasant feeling and one usually only his more impatient sibling has succumbed to.

Sam pulls on a shirt and heads for the basement. As expected however, the Impala is there and all the vehicles are accounted for. The big black Chevy looks out of place amongst the other vehicles somehow although Sam can't really put his finger on it at first. It's only when he compares it to the car next to it that Sam realises Dean hasn't performed his usual wash and maintenance check after their last hunt. There's a fine layer of dust all over the Impala's sleek body and Dean's duffle bag is still sitting on the back seat.

Frowning, he leaves the Impala and heads back upstairs. The last time Dean hadn't seen to the Impala immediately after a hunt had been years ago. Sam wracks his brain for a moment and then recalls it'd been when their Dad was still alive. John had taken one look at the car and told Dean he'd given the car to Dean to look after, not to let it rust. Never mind that both of his son's had been running themselves ragged looking for him and trying to fit in all the hunts he'd set for them at the time.

Sam arrives at Dean's bedroom but there is strangely no sign of his brother, just an unmade bed and a couple of books and pieces of paper spread out on the floor. A small stab of worry does make itself known then. Somehow Sam is suddenly sure that perhaps Dean had been more hurt than he'd realised.

He checks the main living area again and then begins looking in the deeper and darker parts of the bunker but as far as Sam can tell, his brother isn't there either that he can see.

"Dean?" he calls.

He's quite a bit more worried now. His brother would never leave without telling him, at least he thought they were both clear on that when it came to each other these days.

"Dean!"

But all is quiet. Either Dean can't hear him or he is simply ignoring him.

Sam heads back towards his room. He needs to get his phone and call Dean but as he passes the bathroom area he realises he can hear running water.

Quickly Sam knocks and then he tries the handle. It is locked.

"Dean? Dean! Open the door damn it!"

There is nothing. Sam backs up and kicks the door violently. It breaks open immediately; the old tarnished handle no match for the force he'd used.

He is inside then, eyes quickly sweeping the room, assessing it for dangers. But there is nothing. Just his brother fully clothed and sitting in the bathtub, stone cold water pouring over his frame.

"Dean! Hey!"

Sam snaps the water off and grabs his brother by the shoulders.

Dean is hunched over, his arms loosely propped on his knees and his head hanging between them. At Sam's touch there is no reaction.

Sam pushes Dean back, forcing his brother's head up and making him sit against the wall. He risks removing one hand to grab a towel off the hand rail and drag it around Dean's cold shoulders. His skin is freezing beneath Sam's fingers but far more alarming is his brother's distant gaze. There is no recognition at Sam's touch. Wherever Dean is, it is far away from Sam.

"Come on Dean, let's get you out of here," he says gently.

He grabs Dean's forearm and pulls firmly only to be met with resistance. It seems Dean isn't inclined to move. He increases his grip and tugs a little harder.

"Let's go Dean, up and at 'em."

He does get a reaction then, a rather spectacular one in fact.

Awareness enters Dean's eyes in a split second and Sam finds himself shoved backwards. His backside hits the tiled floor followed shortly by his head meeting the cupboard under the vanity with a dull clunk.

"Ow Dean! What the hell?"

A furious glare is his answer.

"Go away Sam!"

"What?"

"I said get lost asshole!"

Sam rights himself, his own fury sparking at the violent reaction.

"What is your problem?"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

The bellowed shout takes Sam by surprise. There is a funny look on Dean's face. If Sam didn't know any better, he would think Dean had snapped completely. The wide eyes and twisted mouth signal his brother's rage.

Quietly Sam replies, "No. Not until you come with me."

"You know what? Fine."

Dean is up and out of the bathtub so quickly Sam almost doesn't react quickly enough to get up and block his brother's path.

"Let me out Sam."

"Stop it Dean," he hisses back. "You're being ridiculous!"

That apparently, is the wrong thing to say. Dean erupts into violent motion and his first punch almost decks Sam completely. Luckily, he turns his head just enough to avoid being nailed by his big brother's deadly fist. As it is, the blow sends him reeling but he manages to keep his feet and all of a sudden it's on.

He doesn't know what this is or where all the rage is coming from. Granted, Sam knows that part of it has to do with the conversation they'd had five days previously…

"I was ready to die, I was ready. I should have died. But you, you didn't want to be alone. That's what this boils down to; you can't stand the thought of being alone. I'll give you this much, you are certainly willing to do the sacrifice as long as you're not the one being hurt."

"Alright, you want to be honest: if the situation was reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing."

"No Dean, I wouldn't. Same circumstances, I wouldn't…"

They grapple and tussle, crashing into walls and upending furniture as the fight moves into the main living area.

Dean is leaving openings left, right and centre which Sam takes advantage of but it is almost impossible to beat his brother down. Dean fights like wildcat; hissing and spitting as he wriggles and employs dirty tactics to rip himself free from Sam's holds.

Somehow though, Sam finally gets Dean pinned. He lies on his brother, pushing his full weight against Dean's back as he pants heavily. Dean doesn't give though. His struggles get wilder and eventually his rage seems to melt into pure panic.

One moment Dean is spitting curses and threats and the next he's screaming at Sam to get off him, over and over until Sam's ears ring but he doesn't let go even though he's almost panicking himself. Dean is reacting completely out of character.

Only once before had Sam ever witnessed Dean go berserk and that had been when Dean was eleven. Their Dad had left them alone too long and a nosey neighbour had eventually noticed. When the police had turned up and tried to round up the brothers Dean had exploded. One moment he'd been frantically trying to insist their Dad had just gone to the shops and would be coming back any moment and the next, pandemonium had erupted when one of the officers had tried to lead Dean outside. His roars and shrieks had nearly brought the house down.

Luckily John had actually turned up twenty minutes into the whole mess. Sam hadn't seen any of it, he was in the cruiser by that point but when he'd next laid eyes on Dean his brother was asleep in the back seat of the Impala, curled up in their father's jacket. His cheeks were a blotchy red and he'd been quiet for several days but eventually things had returned to normal. That day had been the first time Sam had realised just what family meant to Dean.

As he lay on his brother's back and listened to Dean's hitching pants he wondered how their conversation five days ago could have triggered such a reaction. It was nothing short of extraordinary. His brother's level of self – control is so high when it comes to his emotions that these days Sam almost considered it legendary.

"Get off me," Dean chokes between his gasps.

His voice is rough. They're a wreck, the pair of them. Sam's face throbs from several of Dean's blows. He can barely see out of his left eye and he can see a trickle of blood streaming down the right side of Dean's face.

After a couple more minutes once Dean has fallen silent, Sam cautiously rolls off his brother. Dean doesn't immediately move but after a couple of seconds, he stands up stiffly and hobbles across the room.

"Dean," entreats Sam.

Dean doesn't look like he's going to stop for a moment but he changes course suddenly and sits stiffly at the table instead. He doesn't look at Sam but his body is turned towards him enough that Sam can see his profile.

Dean's face is pale and drawn. Exhaustion causes his shoulders to stoop and his eyes are glassy. The only splashes of colour about his washed out features is the blood dripping off one side of his face and the twin spots of angry red on his cheeks.

Dean, the man Sam can't remember having seen cry in years is just about on the verge of doing so. Sam can't believe it. The sight is horrifying. He's at a complete loss for words. All thought of what he might, hell, even what he should say has vanished from his mind.

"What, Sam?" Dean asks after Sam fails to speak.

He's calm now, his green eyes dull.

"I, um…" Sam hesitates, wetting his lips nervously. "…uh, are you okay man?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "What do you think Sam? After all, you seem to know me so well."

The cool rebuttal stings. "Dean quit it. Tell me what the problem is."

At last Dean looks at him head on then and the hurt he can see being directed at him steals his breath away. He hasn't seen Dean this emotional since the days of the Apocalypse and it makes Sam realise in that moment just how much better Dean has become at burying his feelings, not just from him but also from himself.

The outburst suddenly makes sense. Not only had Dean become more skilled at hiding his feelings, he'd become a master of the 'lock down'. Dean's always been more aware of himself than Sam of his feelings and had reacted based upon them on a regular basis growing up and as a young man. Somewhere in there however, probably when their Dad died in fact, Dean had sought to remove them from himself. The pain that was his existence had become too great and Dean had done everything in his power to become stronger, including not allowing himself to feel even a scrap of the barest emotions for months at a time.

Sam hadn't liked it at first but now he realises that in years gone by he'd grown used to it and forgotten the way Dean had once been: someone who relied on gut instinct and was strongly in tune with his inner values rather than the logical hunter he presented to the world these days.

And Sam, presuming once again to know his brother better than he did, had gone and said something that he knew would hurt Dean and he'd expected that just like always, Dean would take it on board, offer a compromise and they'd move on with their lives.

Their last conversation however, appeared to have been the final straw. The camel's back was broken and the rest of the herd had cut loose lickety-split and made for the hills.

Dean's emotions had risen to the surface in a jumbled, chaotic mess and he just couldn't seem to deal with it all at once.

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam offered softly.

Dean sniffed. "Sorry doesn't cut it Sammy. Isn't that what you've been saying lately?"

Sam wilts. He hates that look he's getting now, the one that show's every ounce of Dean's four senior years in his face. It makes him feel like a fraud, like he hasn't been a hunter almost his whole life as well and gone through just as many trials. He looks away.

"God Dean, look at us," he mutters. A humourless chuckle falls from his lips. "We're miserable. We're lonely, we're tired, and we're depressed. I don't think there is anyone else in the whole world as over it all as we are."

Dean doesn't answer. Just stares at Sam and then looks away.

"Do you want to die Sam?" he asks after a while.

"No."

"That's strange."

Sam sighs. "Why is it strange."

"Cause that's what you told me too in the church."

"That's got nothing to do with this Dean."

"Maybe it doesn't. Hell, I get it even," Dean remarks sullenly. "Every time I 'save you', Sam, maybe I bring you back physically but your soul? I don't think I ever have. It's like even since Cold Oak you've got this thing that you don't deserve to live, that you don't want any of this. Thing is, none of us ever wanted this. Not me, not Dad and certainly not you or Bobby or any other hunter out there. It sucks, big time. We all know that but God Sam, how do you still not get it after all these years?"

Dean's tired but there's raw emotion there in his eyes. Sam is pinned by it, unable to look away. The honesty he can see in Dean is mesmerizing. Again, this is another part of his brother he hasn't seen in forever. It makes him feel young and his chest feels tight, like someone has wrapped their hands around his throat.

"Get what? What's to get Dean?" he chokes back. "I should have died! I should be dead. We don't do deals! That's the one thing Dad taught us and look at us? We've broken that rule over and over again and look what it's brought us! Pain, suffering, a long list of dead family and friends! My life should never have been put above anyone's. Not yours, not the world's, no one's!"

"Alright Sam! I get it!," Dean snarls back. "But did you ever stop to think for one second okay, maybe a part of me is selfish and yeah, I could never regret saving your ass over and over again. But you think I'm doing this because I can't live without you? Get real Sam! Everyone else around you gets it but you. Did you ever stop to think maybe I wouldn't have to keep doing this if you'd just save yourself for a change?"

"What! Dean - "

"I'm not done Sammy! Zip it! Nobody wants this life Sam, no one, alright? But this is the way it is and I've got news for you little brother: maybe there is nothing ahead for us, that's probably true but in the end, it's never been about that. Here and now, that's what counts because nobody knows what's going to happen tomorrow and it's no use worrying about it. Even ordinary people know life's greatest open secret Sam and it's that each of us only have one life. That's it, one shot and it's not to be wasted!"

"But!"

"Shut up Sam! I know where you're freaky mind's going and you're wrong. For once in your life just listen to me!"

Sam's tongue aches. The words are sitting in his throat, begging to fly free but something about Dean's expression makes him hold them back. He doesn't want to but he chokes them down like many a foul concoction he's had to swallow in his long career as a hunter. When he's silent, Dean takes it as his cue to continue.

"Sam, I know more than anyone else that I should be the last person telling you anything about making deals. Mum started all this, sure but Dad and then me haven't exactly been stellar examples. Truth is; it sure wasn't the plan to offer my life in exchange for yours all those years ago. If I'm honest," Dean paused and exhaled shakily. "If I'm really honest, there was one other reason for making the deal. A real stupid one but hey, it was because of a second, equally as stupid person: Dad."

"You're not serious," replied Sam flatly.

"Dead serious." Dean sighed.

"Look, truth is we both knew Dad was in hell and when you died, well I knew where you were going Sam. No place for college boy but up. I know this is gonna sound messed up but you dying kind of provided the perfect opportunity. Granted, I repeat it was a really dumb idea but other than you, the only other person you and I both know who never cared squat about their own life is Dad. I couldn't leave that idiot down there and I knew you pretty well then. Was counting on the fact that you weren't going to burn my body cause the only way I knew into hell at the time was through the front door, invitation only."

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Sam growled. "The most colossal jerk ever! I swear if you are making this up - "

"Relax Sam. I'm not done," cut in Dean. "I told Bobby not to let you burn my body. I didn't know if I was going to make it back but I had every intention of coming back. The only spanner in the works was that I kinda maybe never got around to including you in the plan."

"Oh really?" Sam snarled. "Maybe because this is by far the absolute stupidest God damn thing you've ever admitted to doing?"

"Come on Sam. I was 27, practically invincible."

"You jackass!"

"I know. Jackass, numero uno. Got it," Dean placated. "Plan was to escape, find Dad and send him on his way to heaven. I got away three or four times in the first decade but after that there just wasn't another chance so I said yes."

"Wait, what?" Sam interrupted. "But we saw Dad get out. We saw him at Stull cemetery Dean."

"I know but I'm not done yet Sam." Dean snapped. "I said yes and I took that knife and you know the rest. I thought I could do it and I did. I just shut down and did it but the years went by and Alastair never stopped watching until one day he just suddenly told me Dad wasn't in hell and that was when that son of a bitch finally came clean."

His brother paused again, a look of defeat passing over his face. "They found out Sammy. They tortured me for years and somehow they got enough pieces out of me to realise I had an ulterior motive for making that deal at the time. My motive didn't matter anymore but even if Alastair was a sadistic bastard, he was cunning one too. He made me forget and before I knew it I was trying to rescue Dad. He wasn't there though. He was long gone and finally Alastair got me to break the seal. And the rest is history of course."

Dean's voice trailed off and they sat, both breathing heavily, tears fogging their eyes and their throats tight.

"I got played Sam, just as badly as you," huffed Dean. "That wasn't the plan but it happened and I hated myself for a long time afterwards."

Clearing his throat, Dean pulled himself straighter. "I was ashamed and I couldn't tell you and frankly, it just didn't seem worth bringing up after everything else. Bobby got it out of me of course and he reminded me about what's most important Sam. One: we're human. We all screw up. Winchester's in particular screw up colossally. Two: no matter what the screw up though, it is never worth getting hung up on. That's life. We all mess up and you can't let your mistakes rule you. Three: no one is born to hunting but if you take up the profession, it's almost always for life and in that case, four and this is what you need to understand Sam: pick something, anything! Just pick a reason for living because it's going to get rough and in the end, whatever you pick it has to mean you'll do your best to stay alive for that reason. You told me I always say 'family' like it's this great 'cure – all'. And you're right, it's my cure all. It's my reason to do what I do Sam. I've got a life and I'm not giving it up because my family is my reason for living. I'll do my best to protect you and failing that, I'll do my best to live on for you."

Sam shook his head. He couldn't believe this.

"Don't look at me like that bitch," muttered Dean. "That's my cure all, I don't expect you to pick the same one. I probably should have told you that way before now. Truth is I haven't got all the answers Sam and you're right. Lately it's like neither of us can do a damn thing right. Man, I can't even remember the last time our lives didn't just feel like one sucky fest of angst. Even Eeyore's got less to be gloomy about then we do. Seriously though, I'm sorry I can't stop saving you Sam. I just want you to live this life with me Sam, not because you're being forced to but because its life and it's amazing. I want to wake up to your bitch face every morning, give you shit about your hair and your coffee choices and I especially want to make you realise for once just who is the better looking brother," Dean smirked.

"That'd be me obviously," drawled Sam.

"As if Samantha. But dude, we've lost a lot of people and more besides but we're still here, still messing up royally and any day one or both of us might kick the bucket for real. But Sam, are our lives right now really that bad cause the way I see it, through it all we've still got each other. We've got Cas, we've got a home for the first time in our lives and we've got time. Time to talk as much as you want or as little. We're always gonna have issues Sam. Considering our lives, how can we not but Sam, you have gotta stop enduring life. It's to be enjoyed for every day either of us draw breath. We'll both be dead a long time and until then, let's just get on with it, all right?"

Sam stared at his brother. Dean's eyebrows were raised, his face showing more conviction and belief in what he was saying than Sam recalled seeing in forever and all he could think of to say was, "Eeyore? Seriously Dean?"

"Don't even go there," Dean scowled.

"That was just about the biggest chick flick speech you have ever given."

"Yeah well, they say you're the smart one Sam but the reality is you're just that shit hot good not even DeCrapio or any of those other top shot actors would know you were acting."

Sam laughed. It was ridiculous and his body ached and he'd nearly been in tears not even ten minutes ago but he laughed anyway. He chuckled and snorted until his sides began to groan from the lack of breath and still he howled.

"Ha ha, very funny," glowered Dean but he was smiling.

"Dean that was the most rambling monologue ever!" he finally managed to gasp. "Villains the world over would have been proud except for all the sappy parts."

"Laugh it up Sam," Dean retorted. "But I meant it; every word."

"I know you did," answered Sam soberly, "and I hear you. I just…wow Dean. I can't believe you've been carrying that around for so long."

"Come on Sam," Dean shrugged. "It was just one more thing. No big deal. Question is; are you hearing me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," replied Sam. He met his brother's eyes squarely.

"Are you getting me?"

"I get you, mostly," Sam answered and he did. Certainly he'd need time to process but for the first time in forever Sam realised it was like he was seeing his brother for real again. He'd thought he'd known Dean but looking back, it was easy to see that he knew the person his brother had become since his time down below but that he'd forgotten Dean's foundations and they were everything Dean was in the end.

"Guess I owe you an apology," Sam said.

"No apology needed," replied Dean briskly. "Stitches though, an ice pack and a massage? Yeah, you owe me those."

Sam snorted. "As if you big jerk."

Dean grinned and Sam found himself smiling back at the stupid idiot he called his brother. Letting Dean go if the situation was reversed? Yeah Sam was beginning to think he couldn't either. Who'd he have to call a jerk otherwise?

"Bitch," Dean smirked.

Sam laughed.

A/N: There you go! A nice ending for a change. Well, as much as that rambling mess can be. I had fun with it though. I just ran with it mostly. It's the first piece I have written in forever. Really relished the opportunity. No idea where that bit about an ulterior motive for making the deal in exchange for Sam's life came from.

Anyway, may have got a few wires crossed as I haven't been through it thoroughly to check for facts but never mind. This is just meant to be a quick oneshot.

Shannon Noll who penned the above lyrics is a rock/country musician from NSW, Australia. Nice guy with a compassionate soul. I thought they fit this little ficlet perfectly.

Reviews are love people! Thank you in advance!