"I gotcha Sammy. Hang on we're almost there," Dean said as he guided his younger brother down the stairs of the bunker. Their footsteps echoed in the empty halls. It seemed strange this whole place belonged to the two of them. But it was their home now. Where they would take stock of what had happened and figure out their next move. They would recover from this latest encounter with the devil in a place of security and safety rather than in some dingy, infested hotel room, which would only add to the grungy nastiness he and his brother were experiencing after their dual return to the pit.

"That's it, little brother. Just a few more steps," Dean drew Sam closer as he noticed a white-knuckled grip on the curved railing.

"'M fine, Dean. Stop hovering," Sam said shying away from his elder brother's supporting hand.

"Okay, Sam," Dean acquiesced, allowing his brother to pull away. He understood independence was definitely something Sam desired after being trapped yet again.

However, the minute Sam tried to descend a stair on his own, his foot missed the tread. Had Dean not been there to catch him, the younger Winchester would have face-planted into the concrete floor. "Easy Sammy. We're home, now."

"Said I'm fine," the younger Winchester steadying himself on the closest wall. "Lucifer didn't do anything new. "

Dean was horrified at Sam's nonchalance. He remembered his own hell and couldn't even begin to fathom what Sam had experienced to make him so deadened to the fact he had been in cage with the Capital D, Devil, AGAIN. Months in the cage the first time, followed by a yearlong plus soulless stint where his soul was still in Lucifer's dog bowl, which was then followed by a year of Lucifer hallucinations and memories terrorizing and tearing apart his mind. Sam had experienced so much…too much. Either he was desensitized to it or he was putting on a front to hide how scared he'd really been. The older Winchester was willing to be on the second. When Lucifer had snapped Cass and him into the cage, he clearly recalled the look of relief on Sam's face. Then the wide-eyed fear when the beat down had begun. Sam's body slamming against the cage bars. And Lucifer's hand wrapped around Dean's own throat. He didn't know if his little brother had been more fearful of what the devil might do to Dean or to himself.

But Dean was determined to wipe away the fear along with the deadness. If he could just get Sam to talk while he was being patched up, they could clear the air. Because Dean desperately needed to know what had gone down before he'd arrived. That was the only way to fix his mistake of not being there in the first place. He could be there now. Seeing Sam wobble, Dean stretched out a hand to steady him.

Still shaky, Sam shied away leaning more on the wall for support. He wrapped the arm not resting on the wall around his middle. Despite the amount he had protested and insisted to his brother he was fine, the adrenaline and confidence he had had while fighting Lucifer were beginning to wear off. "Nothing a little sleep and some food can't fix."

"And a little big brother TLC," Dean thought, though wisely keeping it to himself.

Following his brother at a distance, Dean realized he had no idea how long his little brother had been in the cage before Crowley had called him. Other than the visible injuries and accompanying winces and actions like protecting his ribs, he had no idea what the devil had done to Sam. The elder Winchester knew he was hurting just from the short time he had spent in the cage after coming to the rescue. He had seen how his brother had been treated while he was there to witness the beatings.

How much more had Sam experienced at the hands of the pissed off ex-archangel before he had showed up?

Now was the time to find out.

"Head to your room, Sam. I'll be right behind you. Just got to grab the first aid kit." Dean knew there were at least bruises and cuts he could fix. He would never forget running to the sound of his brother's scream with Castiel only to see Sam slammed into the bars of the steel cage. Then once they had been reunited he remembered the rivers of crimson winding their way down Sam's face from cuts in his forehead and staining his lips. Dean remembered feeling large bumps on the back of Sam's head and feeling the heated skin of bruises forming but being unable to do anything about it because they had been in the middle of the fight of their lives.

"Just need sleep Dean."

"Not before I check you over. I'm sure the old Prince of Darkness wasn't too warm in his welcome back."

Sam responded with a pained laugh before shuffling off down the hall. "Gonna shower first. Feel all nasty. Like, I literally brought Hell back with me."

Dean paused at the statement, storing Sam's wording away to confront his little brother with when he was more with it. He played off the concern with his usual bravado instead. "Just don't drown before I get there, okay. I'll bring you some clean clothes."

Not able to hear the sound of his brother's retreating footsteps anymore, Dean made his way to the kitchen to grab a few things. First, he was going to get the first aid kit, the big one, the one he kept with the knives. Then he was going to make one of those microwave meals for Sam. Normally, he would take the time to make a home-cooked meal. But he doubted Sam could stay awake long enough for that or that Dean would be willing to leave his younger brother alone for any longer than that.

He began stacking his inventory on the counter taking stock of what he still needed. Bandages check, heating pad check, food check, what else?

He opened the drawer of the counter under the microwave pulling out a pile of rags while glancing up to see that Sam's food was heating. Okay, rags check. Still he was missing something. What the heck was it?

Whatever, Dean knew he would remember it eventually. Right now, he had to make sure Sam hadn't passed out while washing that girly hair of his.

He walked toward the sounds of running water, thinking about Amara. What had he been thinking splitting up with Sam like that? It went against every big brother instinct he had, against every single piece of training his father had given him, every single thing he had ever been told. And look where it had gotten them. Dean felt like crap on toast. Sam had to be feeling like he had been hit by a Mac truck or worse. All because Dean had once again let himself get sucked in by some girl's charms instead of sticking with his brother.

They were stronger together, and it was about time Dean finally got that through his head. He was forever drilling it into Sam's, but for some reason it didn't seem to stick in his own. He had gotten on Sam about leaving him for Ruby and Amelia and Jess and Stanford. But that hadn't stopped him from choosing: Cass and Benny and Crowley and Amara over Sam. They knew they were stronger together why didn't they ever trust their gut feelings.

That was something they would discuss later because right now he just needed to get Sam cleaned, fed, and patched up. This is why he was currently heading toward his little brother's room with a bowl of soup. Not John Winchester's famous kitchen sink stew or Mary Winchester's homemade tomato and rice soup, just a quick throw-in-the-microwave bowl of soup because he didn't want to leave his brother alone for too long. Dean listened as the shower turned off, detouring to his brother's room to grab a pair of boxes and sweatpants for Sam and dump his supplies on the bed.

Dean gave the pile on the bed a once over before heading to the bathroom. He knew he was still missing something, but he didn't have time to figure it out right now. Now was the time to make sure Sam hadn't passed out. With as tired as he had been, Dean definitely considered it a real possibility, He approached and listened; hearing nothing, he knocked. "Sam! You alive in there? Did you drown?"

"I'm good Dean," the muffled response came. "Just gimme a minute."

"I got your clothes. I'm going to leave them on the counter." Dean set the bundle of clothing down, mentally cataloguing how he was going to treat Sam's injuries.

Sure he had superficially taken care of Sam after they had gotten the hell out of hell. That, however, had been basically throwing a washcloth at Sam as Dean had thrown the rest of their stuff in the trunk. Sam had wiped the dried blood off his lips and out of his eyes before tossing the then useless rag in the backseat and summarizing his verbal showdown with Lucifer for Dean. The older Winchester knew there was more to Sam's quality time with the devil than he was willing to admit. But there was a time and place for it. Right now wasn't it. Right now, his priority had to be his little brother. Doctor Dean was ready to dole out the fixes and painkillers and ship little brother off to dreamland. The official rehashing could wait until tomorrow. Sam was definitely hiding something, but at the moment, he needed to get his mind off of it with some big brother TLC and some Netflix.

"I'm gonna go get set up while you change. Let me know when you're ready to be patched up." It was then that Dean remembered what he had forgotten in the kitchen. Ice. How could he have forgotten the one thing that would take care of the majority of Sam's injuries or at least quell the pain? Damn it, he'd forgotten painkillers too. "Meet you in your room. Gotta go grab some more stuff from the kitchen."

Dean nearly sprinted to the kitchen because he knew if he took any more time than absolutely necessary his brother would climb into bed and be out for the count before getting his injuries examined. No way in hell was that going to happen. No pun intended.

He dug through the drawers in the kitchen until he found Sam's hidden stash of the good painkillers before going for the ice. Dean knew his brother didn't think he knew where they were hidden, but Sam never did realize he couldn't keep a secret from his big brother. Dean pulled out the strongest painkillers he could find, knowing they would knock Sam out and hopefully provide a chance to get some dreamless sleep before memories and nightmares assaulted him.

Snatching a few dishtowels off the counter, Dean rummaged through the freezer for the cold packs he knew his meticulously organized younger brother had stored in there. Not knowing how many he'd need the elder Winchester grabbed a couple bags of frozen vegetables as well.

Walking back down the hall, Dean allowed his mind to wander again. It wandered back to the conversation they had had in the car about Sam's encounter with Lucifer: about Sam's confession to standing up to devil once more. Sam had said he had bet on Dean to fight the devil.

After all of the shit they had been through the last few years, Sam had no reason to trust his brother. No reason for him to put any stake in his brother's rescue whatsoever. Still Sam had faith, faith Dean would show up to save the day. From the strength of his convictions as Sam had told Dean of the conversation with Lucifer, there had never been any doubt in his mind Dean would bust down the doors of hell and the cage to start kicking ass and taking names. Even though Lucifer had laughed in his face, Sam had said he had always bet on his brother and would continue to do so no matter what.

Dean had to learn he couldn't bet on anyone but his brother either. Sam had held his ground and said no to Lucifer time and time again. He had resisted the charms of Lucifer showing him the greatest hits. He had denied the chance of freedom in favor of protecting the world. He had endured tremendous physical and mental pain at the hands of the devil but still stood his ground. He had been bloody and beaten and known there was no way to win but still he kept fighting, refusing to give in.

Before entering his brother's room, Dean thought about the last thing Sam said to him on the way back to the bunker before sleep had claimed him. "I'll always bet on you Dean no matter what anyone says. It's you and me against the world. We can beat anything. We've beaten the devil before; we've come up against angels and demons, Leviathans and all other kinds of monsters. We will find a way to defeat Amara. We will come out on top just like we always have. We don't need Lucifer even though he said he was the only one who could beat Amara. Why should we trade one self-centered, evil son-of-a -bitch for another? You know for all powerful beings they whine an awful lot. We will figure this out together just like we always do."

Dean shook his head as he opened the door. When had he forgotten that, when had he forgotten Sam was the most important thing in his life, and the one thing that would never change. Knocking he called, "Sammy! You decent?"

"Really Dean? What are we twelve?" The mumbled response floated through the closed door. Dean knew he had to get in there right this second, or Sam would pass out with unattended wounds.

"I'm taking that as a yes. Ready or not I'm coming in." Using his foot to push the door open since his hands were teeming with the rest of his supplies, Dean surveyed the room. The previous inventory he had collected was pushed to the corner of the bed. Sam was sitting on the bed tightly gripping the nightstand next to it as though using it to keep himself upright. His body was littered with bumps and bruises. Though Sam had been able to clean most of the blood off between the car and the shower, the wounds were still open and needed tending. "All right, Sasquatch. Let's get this done and over with."

"You want this done and over with? This was your idea Dean." Sam huffed from underneath his wet head of hair. Dean wanted to look after Sam quickly because he knew each bruise and cut was just a reminder of what Sam had endured for a second time. Some would scar, leaving the younger Winchester not only with the emotional scars but physical ones as well.

"Stop your whining and turn around," Dean said adding his recent acquisitions to the pile Sam had already made.

Sam let go of the nightstand with a wince. "Damn that hurts. You'd think since it was a metaphysical place I could have gotten away with just metaphysical bruises?"

"Pretty sure that's now how it works, Sammy. And what's with all the big words? Didn't your brain get a little scrabbled?" As he asked, Dean ran his fingers through his brother's damp hair probing the numerous cuts including a rather large gash that would probably need stitches after the rest of Sam had been checked over.

Sam jerked away with a hiss. "Eighty percent sure I just have a minor concussion. It's not the end of the world. I've had worse. We both have."

Poking at the gash once more just to irritate Sam and keep his mind off anything involving the events of earlier. "I'll be the judge of that."

Dean was so proud of Sam for standing his ground and saying no, even though Lucifer insisted he was the only way to win. Sam flinched away as Dean poured antiseptic over the seeping gash. "Ouch, cool it Florence Nightingale. Where's your bedside manner?"

"I think I left it in the cage with my sense of humor about this whole situation. Can you just drop it?" Dean once again liberally cleaned out the wound, and Sam hissed in pain. While Dean felt bad for intentionally hurting his little brother, sort of, at least it got Sam to shut up. The older Winchester knew his little brother's brain was moving at 90 miles an hour, replaying every action, reaction, conversation that had happened during their encounter with Lucifer. Both the things that had occurred before Dean had arrived and after. In apology, he passed Sam the painkillers he had brought from the kitchen. "Take these."

Sam shook his head in protest, but one of his hands still snaked out to snag the pills and bottle of water his brother held.

Dean moved on to the next step of his triage, mechanically. Despite the fact he didn't want his little brother dwelling on the who, where, and what of recent events, it seemed as though the older Winchester's mind was trapped there, doing exactly what he was attempting to prevent Sam from doing. Going round and round in circles like a carnival ride. Replaying every single incident from the time he'd left to meet with Amara to snatching Sam back from Lucifer's clutches once again like a bad rerun episode of late night TV.

Sam's voice cut into his thoughts as Dean began to stitch the gash on his brother's head. "It's over. I'm okay. I'm safe." Sometimes it scared Dean how intuitive his little brother could be. It was like Sam could almost sense his thoughts before he thought them. The younger Winchester's hand moved from where it was resting on the bed to come up and grasp his brother's stilling the motion of sewing. Dean moved his head down, trying to find Sam's eyes. He couldn't handle the sight of a needle hanging from his brother's head.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Maybe the painkillers Dean had given his brother were already kicking in because Sam was making little sense. So the older Winchester chose to ignore his sibling's mumbling and went back to his stitching and his own introspective musings.

But the younger Winchester continued, "I told Lucifer he was done. I fought back. I told him there was no way he was going to get me to say yes." Sam's voice lowered, but his rambling continued, and Dean knew his brother was bordering on finally giving in to sleep. It had been a long, crazy, exhausting day. "He told me the only way out was to be ready to die, ready to watch my friends and family die. He said we couldn't win this fight because we choose each other over the world every time. And it's true."

Dean froze again, stopping with only a few stitches more to go. Too bad Lucifer had disintegrated into a ball of white light because the older Winchester wanted to kill him again. Where did he get off saying those things to Sam? How on earth did the devil think something like that would make Sam say yes? Threatening the people Sam loved was one of the surest ways to get him to do the opposite. For as well as the devil claimed to know his brother inside and out, it was amazing how clueless he could be. Hell, Lucifer had been in Sam's head.

"I fought. I told him I could handle it. I was ready to die, ready to watch my family die if it meant he wouldn't get out. Even though, he said he could beat Amara. That he was the only one. Even though he said if I said yes, everyone would be safe. He almost had me convinced a few times. But I held out and kept saying no. Because I had faith in us; faith we will find a way to beat Amara. Because, we do choose each other every time. No matter the situation we choose each other over the world. And we save the world because of it." Sam trailed off, and the older brother assumed he had finally given in to the meds and fallen asleep.

Dean wasn't sure how much more of this rambling he could handle. Yes, he appreciated Sam sharing intel about what had happened before he and Cass had arrived. But each new statement made by the devil in his absence cut through Dean like the angel blade Castiel had been wielding.

The older Winchester couldn't believe his brother thought so little of himself. How could Sam possibly agree he was ready to die? How did he come to the conclusion any of the devil's suggestions short of saying yes would be viable solutions? He bit back a small smile he reviewed Sam's last words. They were better together. They had saved the world countless times, from countless threats: Yellow-eyes, Meg, Ruby, Crowley, Leviathan, Knights of Hell. They had beaten the devil once before too, all because they chose each other. They would beat Amara too. They just needed time and research and each other.

Dean began rearranging the ice packs placed on various points of his brother's body, grimacing at the darkening skin. Sam would be sore for days. Dean hoped all the pain and suffering was worth it. Despite the fact, they were back at square one. He cringed in sympathy for his brother's pain but smiled at his brother's strength. Sam could have said yes numerous times both before and after Dean's arrival in the cage. But he had held his ground, steadfastly saying no and denying the devil his greatest desire in spite of the hardship. Dean couldn't think of anyone he would rather have at his side to fight Amara besides his brother. Sam was the strongest person he had ever known. And the younger Winchester was not reminded of that nearly enough.

Dean moved to feel along his brother's ribs. This would cause Sam less pain if he was asleep and give his brother a chance to check for any breaks, as well as give Dean a mental break. The younger Winchester had curled around his ribs in the cage and been rather protective of his chest area since they had escaped. Running his fingers lightly along Sam's ribcage, Dean was startled by a light moan followed once again by Sam's voice. "I didn't just have faith in us as a team. I had faith in you, Dean. And you came through. You got me out. We did it Dean. We won. Even though you said we didn't have to."

Dean paused in his ministrations as he remembered what he had said to Sam in the cage, after he had witnessed his little brother getting the Devil's beat down. Sam had sounded so desperate, so hopeless. Dean had said the only thing he could think of to give his little brother some hope. He had told Sam they didn't have to win the fight, only hold on. He knew when Sam was more lucid there would be a fountain of questions. Why had Dean told him to only hold on for a few minutes, what had happened before Dean had shown up in the cage, how had Dean known to show up, why had he shown up?

The inquisition, however, could all be saved for later. Right now, both brothers were roughed up and worn out. And Sam needed to head to dreamland despite all his current attempts to fight it off.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder, one of the least bruised places on his body, to signal the end of the conversation, hoping his brother would take the hint. "Yeah we did little brother. I'm proud of us. Now go to sleep." He brushed a hand along his brother's forehead and closed lids. Hoping this time they would stay shut, and Sam would heed his direction.

No such luck. Sam's eyes drowsily popped open once more. "Dean?"

"Yeah Sam?" The older Winchester had to almost physically restrain himself to prevent the words "Would you just go to sleep already?" from coming out of his mouth. Sam needed sleep, but Dean knew if he didn't allow his little brother to get the feelings and emotion of the day regarding the cage situation off his chest, next time he broached the subject, Sam would shut down. So despite his better judgment, Dean listened.

"I knew you'd come for me," Sam murmured.

"Always, Sammy, always," Dean affirmed, wondering when there had been any doubt.

Sam's response confirmed the doubt had been nothing but a sliver. Barely a blip on the Winchester family radar. "I told him you would."

"You have way too much faith in me, Sammy," Dean said shaking his head. He again resisted the urge to tell his brother to shut his big mouth because his body needed rest.

"Always believe in you Dean. Lucifer said I shouldn't bet on you. But I always will. You and me against the world." This time Sam's eyes drifted shut and stayed that way. Dean moved to tuck the blanket around his brother and the ice packs. He couldn't believe the sheer amount of trust his little brother placed in him. Sam had once blown up at him for the amount of faith Dean had placed in their father. But Sam placed just as much, if not more, faith in Dean, his big brother. In them as a team. And damn if that didn't make the older brother tremble with fear, as well as burst with heaps of pride at his brother's confidence in him, in them. He was relieved the experience was over. They had once again danced with the devil and won. Amara would be taken care of in a similar fashion.

But that was for another day. Now, Dean was off to take a shower of his own before following Sam to dreamland. "That's right little brother," he whispered not wanting to wake Sam but needing the words to be said out loud. "Don't you forget it. I gotcha. Always. Nothing's going to happen to you as long as I'm around. Together we can conquer anything. I'll always bet on you too, Sammy." He shut the light to Sam's room off with a click and one final comment, even though his brother was too crashed out to hear it.

"You and me against the world."