'When was the moment…'

Summary: '…it all fell apart.' / 'When did things get so crazy anyway? There was a time when he couldn't have just lay there while his brother was suffering. But now their lives were so wacked up, so distorted...' / Early season 5.

Disclaimers: So it was the apocalypse and there was a war and I was fighting alongside Sam and Dean… *happy grin* *bubble bursts* oh, crap… that was a dream. *sigh* Reality check? Not mine. Darn.

Title's from song lyrics – predictably, since that's obviously becoming a bit of a theme thingy for my SPN fics. 'The wild at Heart' by Birds of Tokyo, also not mine.

A/N: A season 5 fic! Have to be honest, I've been telling myself that I'm not even gunna attempt a fic set in that season cuz dammit is it deep and complex. And yeah, I can do deep (as we've established… yes, I am well aware that all this deep angstiness can't be good for my brain), but screwing up Sam's or Dean's POVs from season 5 would be blasphemous. *solemn nod* But I couldn't shake off this little one-shot bunny so I decided, aw what the heck, I'll give it a shot… Set early season 5, I guess. No exact time-frame in mind.

The first hint he got that his brother wasn't asleep was the constant tossing and turning from the other bed. Then a few moments of silence, before a sigh sounded and sheets rustled quietly as he got up. Bare feet tread carefully across the room – careful not to make noise and wake him up, no doubt – before the bathroom door opened and he slid in, the light from inside illuminating the motel room only for a second before the door slid shut behind him.

Dean let out a breath of his own and turned on his side, facing the door and Sam's now-empty bed. He knew his brother hadn't been sleeping much lately – heck, he hadn't, either. Funnily enough, having the weight of the knowledge of the freaking Apocalypse and the Devil's rising on their minds 24/7 didn't exactly make it easy to catch any rest at all.

And no doubt it was a lot harder for Sam.

Dean scowled and shifted, eyeing the closed door behind which he could hear the noise of the running tap. It stopped after a minute or so, and the sound of Sam's approaching footsteps were clear in the silent night, so he turned back, sprawling out on the bed, face towards the front door of their motel instead. He kept his breathing deep and even as the door behind him opened and shut quietly.

Even without seeing him, just listening, Dean knew his brother was probably leaning back on the wall or door, eyes shut, trying to even out his breath – that much at least, he could tell, because he was way attuned to the sound of Sam's attempts to calm down.

He didn't know if it had been a nightmare this time, or just plain nasty thoughts and memories assaulting his younger brother's sleep. Either way, he didn't get up, didn't turn around, didn't make a move to comfort him.

Call it petty or selfish, but Dean knew that Sam could deal with it; he was tough – obviously stronger than before, if the last year had proven anything. And he just couldn't deal with a mending Sam right now, not with all the other crazy crap going on.

Not when he could hardly deal with himself at the moment.

When did things get so crazy anyway? There was a time when he couldn't have just lay there while his brother was suffering. His brother.

But now their lives were so wacked up, so distorted… He scowled, clenched his jaw, blocking off the stem of unpleasant thoughts.

Sleep wasn't going to come now. Dean listened as Sam moved, slow hesitant steps towards the front door. He tensed, watching silently from his bed as Sam paused at the locked door, his movements edgy.

Dean's mind flashed back – Sam leaving in the middle of the night, unexplained absences, 'training' with Ruby, demons… He stopped them forcefully, with a stab of regret, maybe guilt too. He knew he had to trust Sam now, knew he was sorry and wouldn't take up the freaky crap anymore… It was tough to do, though, considering all the lies… the mistrust. And Dean didn't take lightly to being betrayed by his family. His brother, no less. The same kid who used to follow Dean's footsteps like a puppy, the guy Dean trusted more than anyone.

And he took that trust, ripped it into shreds and shattered it, so it wasn't difficult to see why Dean got edgy at the slightest thing.

Sam wasn't leaving, though. He stopped just short of the door and knelt to… check the salt lines, then the devil's trap. Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, curiously observing. Sam went to the windows then, checked those, peered outside briefly then, seeming satisfied, returned to his bed with a sigh. He perched on the edge, head bowed into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Dean subtly shifted to see him – he didn't really know why, but his curiosity peaked. Concern, too, 'cause protective instinct from years of being a big brother never disappeared. He briefly considered getting up, but… Sam didn't exactly look distressed, more – troubled.

He wasn't moving, but soon Dean realized he was muttering something. He paused, clasped his hands together and leant his forehead on them, eyes squeezed shut.

And Dean felt like something was crushing his chest at his brother's next more distinct words…

"You have to be there somewhere… someone got me and Dean away from Lucifer when the gate opened – someone had to have given Cas his powers back." He swallowed. Dean could hear the faint tremor in his voice now. "It's just… help us out here? Please. I… I know Dean hasn't forgiven me, I don't blame him – but we can't do this if we're not working together." A deep, shaky breath. "So, if… if we are supposed to be the ones to stop Lucifer… we could use some help."

Sam was praying.

Dean was stunned. It probably shouldn't have been such a shock – Sam had always been the more believing one of them. He'd believed that there could be angels out there, years ago, when Dean was skeptical. What was it Sam had told him? "I do pray everyday… I have for a long time." And, yeah, turned out there were angels, but God? Dean didn't know if he believed the guy was really out there or not, but either way he didn't have an ounce of faith in Him.

But apparently Sammy did. He was praying for Him to help them.

'We can't do this if we're not working together.'

Dean shut his eyes as Sam sighed heavily again, shot him a quick glance, and crawled under his covers again.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe they did have to work together like before to fix this. Saying it – thinking it – didn't make it easier. The wounds were still too fresh, too deep, for that now. Forgetting was tough enough. Forgiving? Completely?

Dean wasn't sure he could do that yet.

And he didn't pray… but still, hoping for some good to come out of all this crap was inevitable.

He didn't know how much more hits they could take before breaking. But with the bond between the brothers so severed…

God or no God, he wasn't getting his hopes up.

I fought with many and I won for some

We stared at ourselves 'til our breaking point

We wear our bruises like watermarks

The life and the death of the wild at heart

When was the moment it all fell apart

With no sign of warning, no raised alarm

We still wear our bruises, we show our scars

Forever the wild at heart

The wild at heart

~The Wild at Heart, BoT

A/N: *stares* And on that very happy note...

Honestly, not entirely sure about this, but hey – I can never say no to writing something outta Dean's head. xP What can I say, he's Dean Winchester. Like, the epitome of awesomeness, man.

I think I changed the song for this story like three times. Almost four. x) I was gunna do Linkin Park's "What I've Done" but I realised that's more Sammy than Dean. And Wild at Heart has always been a favourite of mine. :)

So – tell me what you thought? Should I quit with the angsty stuff and get a move on with the humour fics? Cuz I've got a couple lined up, but these deep fics always seem to get in the way. *rolls eyes*

So yeah – review, please! :D I'll give ya Impala-shaped chocolates.

Peace out~

iz.