Silence and Sorrow

Angsty twoshot. Dean and Sam have a very awkward ride home... until it just gets so much worse.

Enjoy the angstiness :D

"So we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Dean frowned and looked down into his beer. Sam glanced at him; his brother's face brooding and unreadable: he knew that he hadn't believed a word of it, things we're far from what they should be, and they both knew it. Sam considered saying something but Dean just wordlessly walked round to the driver's side and started up the Impala's engine.

Sam sighed, reluctantly joining Dean in the car, knowing that the second the door closed, there would be silence; Dean shutting himself off, getting lost inside his head as usual – the conversation closed.

Of course, Sam knew he'd brought on himself. Under the siren's spell, Dean just let out that he was feeling betrayed and confused and tired of the lies, while Sam ripped into his brother about how weak he was, how useless and, and...

Sam shuddered, the sickening twinge of guilt churning his stomach and threatening to make him hurl. He clenched his jaw, shit, he was an awful brother; Dean wasn't weak, he went to hell for Sam for God's sake! He just cared about him so much that he wanted to finish it all, to keep Dean safe and if that meant getting his hands dirty, he'd do it. Sam's eyes flitted to the road, the landscape thinning as they drove out of town; he wasn't even sure where they were headed.

Dean meant the world to him, it was only his aggravation and stress of the impending apocalypse that had made him think some pretty stupid things and it was just his luck that some of those words were the ones the siren dragged out of him; he knew, deep down they'd meant nothing, but how could he get Dean to see it? After all his "trust me"s and lies how could he make him believe it?

"I don't think you're weak Dean." Sam blurted out before he could stop himself, regretting it as soon as it left his lips. He looked down and coughed, the floor becoming suddenly more interesting.

Dean seemed distant, not really listening, "Nice to know," he replied blankly, his eyes gazing off into the distance.

Sam's heart twinged, his insides recoiling. He felt nauseous in a way he'd never felt before and craved to get out of the car and walk around, to steady his spinning head. He almost asked, but he thought better of it, Dean might just drive off without him and never come back. So what if Sam knew Dean was afraid he'd leave him again? He wasn't so sure if that would make a difference now – his brother, the brother he really did idealise, hated him and nothing meant anything anymore.

Self-loathing suddenly overwhelmed him, he hated his very skin, the blood he couldn't wash out, the demon they were both scared he'd become. Sam dug his teeth into his bottom lip, biting until he tasted the metallic tang of blood; that bastard demon's blood mixed with his own. It took the edge his off his anger, but it was still coursing through him - his brother still hated him, or worse, he just didn't know him anymore – he'd said as much. Or should Sam really take that word for word? Was that just his frustrations or was that real? What he'd said, it didn't mean a thing but Dean had every right to feel used and deceived. He's spent 40 years down below and all Sam could do was hurt him more, at a time when he needed him most.

He licked his split lip bitterly and shoved his hands roughly into his trouser pockets, his phone bumping dully against his right-hand knuckles. He switched it off discreetly, before resting his face on the cool window, half watching the slowly darkening scenery blur past until he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

Sam was 21 again, his bags packed and leaving for college. Neither Dean nor John would talk to him; but he knew how this played out, it was his memory after all. He loaded his bags up into his arms and onto his back before walking out the door, brushing past his brother silently. They stepped onto the driveway, standing awkwardly for a moment, Sam turning away first, as he'd done the first time round. He turned to the road when an arm grabbed his roughly.

"What are you doing here?" Dean shouted, anger and fear twisting his expression.

Sam panicked, this wasn't how it went, he was meant to leave, without a word and yet Dean looked as if he'd never seen Sam in his life.

Dean suddenly shoved him backwards, a knife glinting in his hand.

Sam panicked, "It's me Dean, it's Sam, Sammy! You're little brother, De–"

"Stay away, stay away from us!" Dean yelled pushing him harder; Sam falling over his bags, tripping and landing against the car. He picked himself up, catching his reflection in the window, a pair of bright yellow eyes staring back.

His dream blurred...

Uriel glared at him, "The only reason you're still alive Sam Winchester is because you've been useful. The moment that ceases to be true, the second you become more trouble than you're worth; one word, one, and I will turn you to dust."

His dream blurred...

A demon sat bound in a devil's trap, a malicious grin plastered across the human's face that he was wearing. "Go on Sam, tell us about all the things you and your demon bitch do in the dark, go on, hero."

Sam's jaw clenched in anger and seconds later he was in mid flow of exorcising it back to hell, the demon bent over and retching its soul out through its mouth.

He finished and Sam smiled, this power felt good and he was improving.

"Can you explain this then, Sam? If I didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you."

He turned confused; this wasn't how it went...

"I can explain, Dean, I'm sorry–"

"Go on Sam, tell us about all the things you and your demon bitch do in the dark, go on, hero," Dean snarled and turned to leave.

"I can ex–

His dream blurred...

Dean was gripping his arm, tears in his eyes, "...if I don't stop you he will," Dean finished looking grave. He gripped harder, shaking him slightly, "Sam, hey Sam..."

"What I'm right here Dean," he looked incredulously...

"...Sam, wake up, we're out of gas. I don't know how..." he paused, unreadable once more.

Sam blinked, rubbing his eyes and stretching, he took a moment to remember where he was. He glanced at his brother, wondering what he'd meant, but Dean was already out of the door. So that was it, conversation closed again.

Sam sighed, "So we're stuck here then..."

****

"So we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Dean frowned and looked down into his beer. He could see Sam glancing at him in his periphery, a typical expression across his face that knitted his eyebrows together in concern. Nope, he hadn't believed a word of it either and they both knew it. Things we're definitely far from what they should be and letting it all out, if accidently, had only worsened the situation. Anyway, Dean wasn't about to divulge anymore of his misgivings since they only came back to haunt him later, it seemed.

Sam looked on the verge of saying something so Dean turned and walked away round to the driver's side of the Impala, the quickest way to end a pointless talk before it even started and the longer the facade lasted, the easier things could be. He swallowed the last of his beer and started the engine up gladly, the promise of driving his Impala calming his uneasiness a little.

Sam joined him in the car, silent but looking more anxious than before as they set off. Dean tried to ignore it and drove onwards even faster than usual, wanting to get as far away as possible from the wretched town and all the troubles it had caused them.

It had hit him hard; Dean confessed to himself; he'd known his brother all his life and yet 'weak' was never a word he'd ever dreamed Sam would describe him as, but it cut the deepest. Deeper than any wounds or suffering he'd felt or seen in hell, it chilled him right to the bone. Along with being called physically and mentally worse; fearful even, well, it was as if Sam had spat in his face.

But he didn't hate Sammy, admittedly not one bit; it was just the betrayal, the sadness he felt, the way it crushed him; how his little brother was the only one he could really trust and with it thrown back in his face, it stung and he felt defenceless – scarily vulnerable for the first time in his life. If Dean was being completely honest with himself, he was afraid to talk to Sam, afraid what might come out, angry or sad.

"I don't think you're weak Dean." Sam blurted out while Dean pretended to be watching the road. He looked down, coughing; Sam seemed surprised he'd even said anything.

"Nice to know," Dean replied, unable to look at Sam or find the necessary sarcasm to make it a joke. His own words sounded bitter and cold but he couldn't bring himself to fix it; too confused – was that real or was Sam just trying to make him feel better? Dean's words hadn't been lies, just frustrations; didn't that mean Sam's had to be real? True, Dean had never expected Sam to say the things he said, but he's been doing a lot of unexpected things at the moment.

He frowned, deciding instead focusing on the familiar grip of the Impala as its tires sped further past the town's outskirts; the hum of the engine helping him to clear his head and concentrate his thoughts.

For a brief moment he glimpsed at Sam; he was staring out of the window, brooding, by the looks of things. Damn it, was Dean really that much of a burden to him? Of course, stupid question, Dean's always been in the way for Sammy, since college, since he'd made that deal with the cross roads demon, since Lilith got his contract, even when he'd died... and now he's back, Dean's back, when Sam was finally rid of this extra weight; getting between Sam and Ruby and his demonic powers and their fight with Lilith – hell, Dean didn't have a clue why Sam hadn't already left.

His gut suddenly hurt – Sam leaving – now that scared Dean; at the moment when he really needed Sam and... well, when hadn't he needed Sam? They were and always had been a team and Dean missed it, the jokes, and the simplicity of it all; without having any divine interference or end of the world to deal with.

Most of all though, Dean missed his Sammy; the thoughtful, nerdy Sam who always had his back and was his partner in crime; fighting the supernatural and really weird together. He seemed to have outgrown Dean during his months down below: tougher, less compassionate, darker.

He glanced at Sam again; he was asleep, his head resting limply against his shoulder and the window. Dean smiled; now that was Sammy, his sleeping face the same as it'd always been since Dean could remember, apart from the slight frown that bent his brow.

"It's me Dean, it's Sam, Sammy. You're little brother..." he mumbled unexpectedly.

A memory flashed in Dean's head suddenly...

The room was quiet except the slight crackle of the fire every now and again. It was just a couple of minutes to midnight but Sam had fallen asleep across the sofa opposite the hearth without Dean noticing.

There was just a minute to go, Dean went to wake up his little sleeping brother; John wasn't home, he was off somewhere, another job, he'd said, and Dean didn't want to be alone to count down to the New Year.

"Sam," He whispered, nudging him a little, his voice breaking the soft silence.

Sam grinned, the flames turning Sammy's face a bright flickering orange, "...he's my big brother and I love him," he murmured, grabbing Dean's hand and holding it tight.

Dean smiled his heart swelling with pride. He rested his head close to his brother's and sat on the floor. His watch beeped twice; "Happy New Year," he whispered in Sammy's ear, squeezing his small hand; Dean wasn't alone–

The dashboard started bleeping, the fuel symbol flashing an angry red.

"What?" Dean said taken aback, tapping the panel angrily; how could he have missed the gas getting this low? He sighed, this wasn't happening, they were in the middle of nowhere.

Five minutes later the car engine spluttered, slowing down to almost nothing. Dean pulled off the road and parked, utterly perplexed at how he could have failed to spot something like that. He turned to Sam again who was still asleep; Dean was going to have to wake him up, God, how much more of an idiot did he want Sam to think he was?

He reluctantly leaned over, nudging him a little like he'd done so many years ago, Sam still mumbling, in his sleep.

"Sam, hey Sam, Sam, wake up, we're out of gas. I don't know how..." Dean closed his mouth and got out of the car; he didn't think he could handle Sam's disappointment right now.

Thanks for reading - Reviews are much appreciated!

(Next chapter up too)

xxx