The cheeseburgers Sam brought were the best cheeseburgers Dean ever tasted.

And the first ones that ever stuck in his throat.

He was back, he was safe, he was in his room, on his bed, eating junk food, cheeseburgers, fries, and a chocolate milkshake.

Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't turned evil. Hadn't become Evil.

Hadn't hunted Sammy through this Bunker, through their home, like a snake hunting a mouse.

But he had.

He'd done all that and worse, and the first thing Sam did after saving him from himself was to buy him a bag full of junk food.

Now Dean was hiding in his room eating that food and Sam was out in the Bunker – what? Drinking? Miserable? Alone?

All three?

Probably.

Probably somebody should check on him.

Cas had left to take care of his 'female in the car' problem, so if somebody was going to check on Sam, it was going to have to be Dean.

Well, Cas said that Sam didn't 'want a divorce' and Sam hadn't been grouchy out in the kitchen a little while ago, so –

So –

Well, Dean had his junk food garbage to throw out, so that was an excuse to leave his room and go be around Sam.

Because maybe he needed an excuse to be around Sam right now.

He packed up the wrappers and cartons and opened his bedroom door. There were no lights from the library. There was no sound from anywhere. No music, no computer, no pacing, no cursing. Nothing. He headed for the kitchen, avoiding the 'stand there while I bash this hammer through your skull' hallway, but Sam wasn't in the kitchen, so he tossed his garbage and tried the library.

There Sam was, at the table, the only light coming from one light in the map room. He was sitting in what was usually 'Dean's chair', holding an open bottle of whiskey in his hand, staring at it. His laptop was on the table in front of him. Whatever he was feeling, if he wasn't eating he shouldn't be drinking, so Dean took the bottle away from him.

"Enough, maybe?"

"No," Sam said and took the bottle back. He was exhausted, with his dark eyes and bowed shoulders, deep breaths that were bordering on stifled yawns. He couldn't have slept anytime recently. He wouldn't have slept, not enough, not while Dean was in danger, and he had added to that being abducted and beaten and threatened with death, all the while having one arm strapped in a contraption that looked like Bigfoot's seatbelt.

"Cas didn't -?" Dean asked, gesturing to the contraption still imprisoning Sam's arm.

Sam shrugged that shoulder. "Didn't want - don't want – no."

This was the point, usually, Dean would lean against the table and tell Sam – something. The words always, usually, came by themselves. Comfort, advice, affection, encouragement – the words always, usually, came automatic and honest.

Now all that came to mind were the heinous things he'd said to Sam in the dungeon. Everything Sam feared, all the things that terrified him, Dean had used to rip him open, deep and lasting and repugnant.

What could he say to make up for that? Where did he even start to look for that apology?

"You should – " Sam kicked out the closest chair. "You know…"

Sit. Sam wanted him to sit. Sit and – what? Dean didn't know. But he sat, "Uh, yeah," because Sam wanted him to. He sat in a chair that felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable even though every chair around this table was exactly the same.

And sitting next to Sam was awkward and uncomfortable even though this – this – together, in the dark, in the quiet, on the mend, should be, was usually, the most familiar place for them to be.

Now it was –

"You – um - ?" Sam asked. His non-imprisoned thumb got jerked in the close-enough direction of the kitchen. "Because there's – you know – "

"You?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Yeah."

Now, sitting next to Sam was awkward and uncomfortable.

He should apologize. Sam deserved an apology. Sam deserved an apology the size of Jupiter. How many times all these years had Sam apologized to him? Asked to be forgiven? How many times had Dean made Sam beg to be forgiven for things that weren't even his fault?

Now it was his turn to apologize to Sam.

How hard could it be?

Damn freaking hard, that's how hard.

This wasn't a let Sam drive the car for a while apology. It wasn't a do Sam's laundry up to and including putting it away for him apology. It couldn't be fixed with an 'I'm such an idiot I can't believe you still love me' hug.

What he did to Sam, what he said - more than the threat of a hammer through his brain - the poison words Dean had ripped into Sam with, those needed the big apology. The full apology.

He needed to say I'm sorry.

Be even though he felt it, he meant it, until he said it, said those two words to Sam, who knew what Sam was thinking.

He took a breath and cleared his throat and said, "You know, Sam," just as Sam cleared his throat and took a breath and said, "Hey, I was thinking," and they both stopped and both motioned each other to go first, until Dean waved Sam on, "No, go ahead."

"Yeah, no, I just, I thought, when you were – when you were –" Sam gestured in the general, close-enough, direction of the bedrooms. "I was thinking – maybe –" he swallowed like he was nervous, or he was going to be sick or – " – maybe we – we could –"

Or he'd finally decided on that divorce.

Well, did Dean deserve anything else?

"Sam – you know, whatever you want –"

Then all in a rush as though he thought he'd lose his nerve, Sam said, "I downloaded 'Guardians of the Galaxy, I thought maybe you'd want to watch it when you were done eating. Watch it with me, I mean."

All thoughts of apology died in Dean's mind. All thoughts period died momentarily. Sam wanted to watch a movie with him. Dean'd been anticipating – dreading – separation, divorce, rancor, disgust. He'd been getting up the nerve to make his apology and it turned out his little brother had been getting up the nerve to ask if they could watch a movie together.

He didn't want a divorce. He didn't want an apology.

He wanted his brother.

"Yeah, 'course I want to watch it with you," Dean said. "I didn't realize it came out online already."

"It didn't – I mean – I found a bootleg copy. A good one." Sam pushed the whisky bottle away and pulled his computer closer and one-handed he got the movie started. "Anyway, I downloaded it."

Sam moved the computer closer to Dean. Dean moved his chair closer to Sam.

He was an idiot, but his brother still loved him.

The End.