So I was rewatching 'Red Meat' the other day and this little thing popped into my head. No real rhyme or reason, just an added scene I guess, hope you enjoy!

Nope, I don't own Supernatural or anything related to this amazing episode.

Before they leave the small urgent care, Dean manages to find Sam a cleaner shirt to slip on, at least until they can get back to the Bunker and change. The drive itself is a quiet and slow one, with both brothers still recovering mentally and physically from the last few days.

The first order of business when they get inside is to get Sam settled and clothes washed, because after two days in the woods and one in a hospital, it's not looking too good.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Sam announces quietly as they're slowly making their way back to the rooms, Dean hanging back just a step in case Sam needs an arm or…something.

"Yeah, probably a good idea. Then it's onto that ordered bed rest. I'll get started on laundry, fun times," Dean shoots his brother a less than convincing smile and watches Sam go slowly into his room before he departs for the laundry room.

"Towels if you could!" Sam raises his voice after him and Dean replies with a 'gotcha' before heading into his room to take a shower himself (which will undoubtedly take less time than Sam) and start a quick load.

Dean ends up bringing an extra towel over for when Sam finishes, and, load in the wash, sets himself up on one side of his brother's bed and starts browsing through Netflix.

"Not…tired?" Sam asks first when he comes out, his hair still half dripping because it's easier to let it air dry than to reach up and rub it with the towel.

"Nah, figured we'd catch up on some Game of Thrones or something? Or Mythbusters maybe? Some frou-frou cooking show?" Dean suggests as he flips through the titles offered and pats the other side of the bed.

He's got one eye on the screen and one eye on Sam as he gingerly sits down and arranges the pillows so that he's sitting up but not straining his abdomen. Dean has a few Tylenols and a glass of water in Sam's hands before he can say otherwise, and the younger man accepts them without complaint.

"Cooking show it is," Dean decides, as Sam is silent through the choice. Game of Thrones is too bloody after what they've just been through, so they could use some mind numbing nonsense.

"Is this the one where the British guy gets pissed at everyone?" Sam asks, smirking ever so slightly as the title card picks up on the screen.

"He's in like…all of them now, so probably," Dean shrugs simply and turns up the volume, leaving the remote in-between them.

Dean gets up halfway through, a bit slower than normal, and switches the load into the dryer before coming back.

"The…meat whatever tasted bad, he got all pissed," Sam sums up what Dean missed in a single sentence, still smiling just a bit.

"Literally the whole show," Dean mutters, but he too takes some amount of enjoyment in the program.

About ten minutes later, there's a clanking from down the hall and Dean turns down the volume.

"What?" Sam asks, looking back and forth between Dean and the hallway. Neither of them are up for a fight, so if it's footsteps they're in for it.

Dean takes another moment and shrugs before turning the volume back up. "Got a load in the dryer, thing's an old hunk, it's just bumping around, get back to him screaming," Dean assures, because it was just something clanking around, and nothing else.

Eventually the episode ends and Dean leaves it to Sam to pick the next one, with "whatever title card the guy looks angriest in" and heads back into the laundry room.

"What is up with you?" he mutters, and begins to pull out their jackets, shirts, and a few towels. "Because I am not up to buying a new dryer this weekend." It's a vague threat to a dryer of all things, that's the kind of day Dean's had.

When all the items are out, he sticks his head in ever so slightly to see what may need repairing. What he sees instead stops him right where he is until he reaches a shaky hand in to pick up the small object that had been the source of the noise.

He brings his arm back out and in his hand sits a bullet, the same one that had struck Sam earlier and he had stuck in his pocket. How it had stayed there, Dean has no idea, but now here it is, the thing that almost stole his brother away from him sitting innocently in the palm of his hand. It's light gray and practically sparkling again, with no trace of the blood that had marred it the last time Dean had seen it.

Surely nothing this small could cause all that hurt and anguish and worry…or all that blood. But it can cause it and will, Dean knows this well enough, it's just a different sort of perspective this way.

Dean had promised they'd laugh about this memento someday, it would all be just a bad memory of the time they got stuck in the woods with gun wielding werewolves. He also promised Sam that he'd be okay, and Sam knew he would be because his brother said that, and then he had almost died.

Dean had already broken one promise that day, he wasn't sure he was willing to break another. Would he just go up to Sam one day and say 'hey, look what I found, it's the bullet from a few months back that basically killed you, fun little souvenir right?' There wouldn't be much to laugh about, he doubted. What purpose did the metal ball serve other than to remind both of them what they had lost and come so close to losing on multiple occasions?

At the end of the day, it was just a little bit of metal, but it was also so much more than that.

Sam's voice eventually breaks Dean away from his fixation on the bullet. "Dude, I'm starting the episode without you if you don't hurry up!"

He shakes his head and wraps the item in the palm of his hand, and squeezes once for good measure before he picks up the other items from the dryer. "Sorry, princess that's too good to get her own towels!"

Dean takes the clothes, towels, and the bullet back to Sam's room, since it's on the way to his own room. "My laundry week was last week," Sam reminds with a hint of a smile as Dean deposits the towels in the bathroom and the clothes on Sam's chair.

"Yeah, yeah, start it up, I'll be there in a sec," Dean instructs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly where Sam can see. The bullet is in Dean's closed hand, wrapped up in his clothes as he pauses for a second in the doorway to watch Sam reach for the remote.

He's slower than normal and winces despite all the meds. He's paler and seems to sink into the bed more than before. But he's also still there. His little brother is still in the Bunker, putting on some angry cooking show for their enjoyment as they try to get over the past few days.

Dean almost lost him, but he didn't.

That's what matters as he makes his way down to his room. He flicks on the light and leaves the clothes in a semi-neat pile on his bed. He stares for a moment more, looking between the bullet and the trashcan under the desk.

With a sigh, he places the bullet on the desk with a light metallic 'clang'. Maybe they would laugh about it one day, and that's a strong maybe. For now, it'll just serve as a reminder. Dean leaves it there, turns out the light, and heads back to Sam's room where he can already hear the overdramatic music from the show.

The bullet sits there in the darkness, a reminder of once again how close they came to losing each other, and how easy it would be for a small piece of metal to destroy any world they had ever known.