For R

Reflections
K Hanna Korossy

He did a double take as he realized the figure curled on the floor was in pain.

"Sammy."

And tilting his brother's head up, the first thing he saw was the blood trickling from his eyes.

"Sammy!"

This was where he would have woken up from the nightmare if he'd been asleep to begin with.

Dean opened his eyes to the sight of Charlie sprawled on the bed in front of him. He didn't dare turn over to check on Sam, not wanting to wake him since he was finally sleeping nightmare-free, but he could feel his brother warm and relaxed at his back, breathing deeply. Alive.

It just hadn't quite gone down the way he'd wanted.

"Like I said, I'm adopted."

The security guards didn't look like they were buying the story, probably because Dean's mind was only partially on selling it. The rest was occupied with the store behind him, where Sam was facing Bloody Mary on his own with his stupid Jess secret, and where Dean had heard two mirrors break when he'd first come out but nothing but silence since.

There were a lot of mirrors in the store.

He couldn't wait any longer. The whole point had been for him to back up Sam while he summoned Mary, not to leave him alone to it while wasting time with two rent-a-cops. Dean gave the guards an apologetic, friendly look. "I just…I really don't have time for this right now." And five seconds later, they were unconscious and he was rushing into the store, scooping up his crowbar as he went.

"Scared you, huh?" came Sam's quiet voice behind him. Dean had to be slipping; he hadn't even heard the change in the cadence of his breathing.

"Go back to sleep, Sam," he said wearily. Even in the dark, facing away from Sam, he didn't let his expression change.

"I'm okay, Dean."

He took a deep breath. "I know you are."

Mary had arrived. Dean only heard snatches of what the mirror was telling his brother, something about leaving Jess alone to die, but it was enough. And just as he'd figured, although the fact it was a warped version of Sam he glimpsed in the mirror was a surprise. But then all he focused on was Sam, crouched in defeat in front of the mirror, his crowbar on the floor.

Dean breathed a curse; he should have been here. The only way he'd agreed to let Sam summon Mary was if Dean was there to keep watch because he never would have let it get this far. He wondered what Mary had been filling Sam's head with even as he raised his crowbar in a batter's stance and covered the last few feet to the mirror, then swung with all his might.

The mirror shattered satisfyingly, and Dean just hoped his brother had ducked.

He could still feel Sam awake behind him, thinking. He could always feel when those wheels were turning, which was way too often in Dean's opinion.

"Dean?"

He rolled his eyes in the darkness. "What?"

"Did you have a secret, too? At the end? Or was Mary just killing everybody since she was loose?"

He knew what Sam meant; at the end, Mary had affected them both, bringing his brother to his knees again and leaking blood out of Dean's eyes before they'd defeated her. Dean gave a minute shrug. "After twenty years of doing this? I've got so many secrets, she'd have her pick." And most of them were secrets involving death.

"I was hunting with you guys most of that time," Sam said, puzzled. "I don't have any secrets from then."

Dean huffed softly. "That's what we were trying to protect you from, Sam."

The mirror had broken and Mary was gone, or so they'd thought. Then he'd turned and finally caught a glimpse of his brother, and realized with a start it wasn't defeat that had Sam huddled on the ground. His face was bloody and contorted with pain, and as Dean stared at him in that split-second of horror, all he could think of was that Mary had worked faster than he'd thought, and that he should have been there to protect his brother.

"I'm not a kid anymore—you don't have to keep watching over me," Sam said quietly.

"I know," Dean said easily. "But I'm always gonna be the older one, no matter how old you get." And Sam would always be his little brother.

There was a soft snort. "Yeah, I'll remember that the next time I save your skin from another wendigo or a big, bad airplane."

Dean made a face that was, unfortunately, wasted in the dark.

Sam wasn't dead; the obvious movement and gasping registered just after the blood did. But it was still with alarm that Dean reached down to grab him.

"Sammy."

There were blood trails from his eyes, and he clasped his chest like it was agonizing.

"Sammy!"

Then Sam's eyes opened and looked at him, the tension easing in both of them with that gesture. Unbelievably, a small smile touched his face. "It's Sam."

And just like that, Dean could breathe again.

Sam was quiet for a long time, but he hadn't gone back to sleep. Dean had given up trying for now, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He wondered if Sam sometimes saw Jess up there.

"Anyway…thanks," his brother finally said and, glancing over at Dean with a faint smile, he turned away, ready to go back to sleep.

Thanks for that evening, breaking the mirror? Or for all the years he'd tried to protect Sam? Dean opened his mouth to ask, then closed it again, deciding it didn't matter. "You're welcome," he said quietly, and could feel Sam's smile at that.

A hunt with a happy ending: Charlie safe in the other bed, Sam safe beside him, already dozing off again. But that moment when Dean had seen the blood and thought he'd been too late, that hadn't been just terror he'd felt like Sam had thought, or grief, although there had been both. It was crushing guilt, his failure again to protect those he loved, that had paralyzed him that fraction of a second, until he realized Sam wasn't dead.

But that, Dean smiled bittersweet into the darkness, that would be his secret to keep.

The End