Title: Invisible line

Chapter 7

Author's notes: Well guys, this is it! Hope you enjoy the last chapter!

Previously…

"Sam, this is different, okay?"
"Different how, Dean?! This isn't different at all. The roles are just reversed. You are my brother man. And demon or not, I know you okay? Better than anyone in the entire world. I spent my whole life looking up to you. You raised me, protected me,- died for me. Dean, do you really doubt that I trust you with everything that I am?"

Now...

How many times have they been down this road before? How many times has Sam asked himself that exact same question in his head only to be turned down by Dean with silence?

Because despite everything they have been through together, Dean still doesn't think Sam trusts him; that Sam should trust him. And that is one of the oldest and strongest roots for their combined pile of family issues: Dean's absolute lack of self-worth.

Sam sighs when the silence becomes insufferable between them and sadly shakes his head. Some things just never seem to change…

"C'mon man," he tries again, sitting a little straighter in bed. "You don't really think I trust some ex-military asshole with a penchant for torture over my own brother, do you?"

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's dramatization. It isn't that he doesn't trust Sam enough to confide in him. He just isn't the share-and-care type of guy, never was.

And it is hard to talk about what happened back there in New York. But one look into Sam's tear-filled gaze is enough to crumble his resolve. He was never able to deny his brother anything when he looked at him like this.

"What do you want me to say, Sam? I killed the guy. Didn't even know the bastard had a kid." The admission comes easier to his lips than expected and Dean swallows before going on. "But it wouldn't have mattered, really. I would have done it anyway, just not in front of the boy's eyes."

He isn't heartless, after all. No kid should ever have to witness the death of a beloved one. Not like he had himself, when his mother burned to death on their ceiling.

Sam takes the information in quietly, his face void of accusation or contempt. "Okay…" he says and Dean can see that he's itching for more, wanting to hear the rest of the story. "But he was a monster, right?"

The sentence is phrased like a question and there is insecurity wavering in his tone. Dean meets his brother's questioning gaze, heart speeding up in his chest. Because this is what the story boils down to, in the end. This is what's really important.

If Cole's dad was some supernatural creature- his death was justified, no questions asked. But if not? What would that make of Dean, then? A ruthless killer. That's what. And will Sam still think of Dean the same way then? Will he still look at his older brother with the same amount of boundless trust? Yeah, right… Dean doubts it.

Upon noticing Dean's hesitation, Sam grows agitated, eyebrows rising to meet his hairline. "Dean?" he pushes gently, tone wavering ever so slightly. "Cole's father was a monster… right? And that's why you killed him."

Dean nods slowly. "Yeah," he breathes, not trusting his own voice to speak any louder. "Yeah he was a monster of the worst fucking kind. But not in the way you might think…"

"What happened?" Sam asks.

"I got a call from a desperate mother, telling me her daughter's been missing. Dad was doing a job in Georgia and I figured I might as well check it out…" Dean snorts at the memory, having come to regret that particular decision about a million times in his life. "Turns out that the girl wasn't the only one that went missing. Kids disappeared all over the neighborhood. Girls between the age of 5 and 15..."

Realization sparks to life in Sam's eyes at Dean's words. "Shit…" he mumbles in dark foreboding, already imagining what comes next.

"Yeah…" Dean agrees bleakly, not even trying to put up a brave front. To the day, the memories of what happened are still haunting him in his dreams and it is almost painful to dig them all up from the darkest corners of his mind. "I thought it was something supernatural at first. Turns out there was this overly friendly neighbor with a thing for school uniforms and piggy tails. He led the local choir… the sanctimonious asshole."

Dean takes a shuddering breath, trying to steel himself for what's about to come. "Jesus, Sam… I found their corpses in the guy's cellar. What was left of them anyways…"

Sam sucks in a breath, eyes widening in shock and compassion. "Oh god… did he- ?" he stops mid-sentence unable to formulate his thoughts out loud.

Dean clenches his good hand into a fist against the rising fury that quells in his chest. "What do you think, Sam?!" he snaps, words coming out way harsher than he intended for them to sound. It's just so hard sometimes- what they are doing.

Because despite all these supernatural sons of bitches that make this world dark and terrifying, it's the human monsters that are the most dangerous.

Dean shoots his brother an apologetic look, hoping to convey that the anger inside of him isn't directed towards Sam, that Dean had just lost his grip on reality for a second- emotions from the past finally getting the better of him. He swallows when Sam's hand lands on his quivering shoulder, gently squeezing the tense muscle in a gesture of emotional support. And as stupid as it might sound, it gives him the power to continue talking.

"I…I found three of them…... they...they had plastic bags over their faces… Apparently the guy- Trenton… he used some kind of spell book to make them docile and keep them quiet... He had a whole shitload of books about black magic and Wiccan spell works down there too. "

"Shit, Dean. I don't even know what to say…That's horrible." Sam shakes his head, pain and empathy written all over his face. His fingers are tightening on Dean's shoulder and Dean feels strangely comforted by the gesture.

He knows if he stops now, he will never get the courage to tell Sam the whole story again, so he takes another deep breath and goes on. "I called the cops, but before I could leave the fucking bastard found me. Went at me with a knife…"

Dean snorts humorlessly before tugging down the collar of his black shirt, exposing a thin jagged line above his right collar bone- a scar that Sam has seen a million times before without knowing-with asking where Dean had gotten it from. He had always just assumed that it happened on some random Wendigo hunt in the woods, not this- never something like this. Sam's eyes fill with tears of guilt and shame as he reaches out to run a finger along the thin scar on his brother's freckled shoulder. "I never knew…" he admits, before Dean shrugs his hand off. "Just a scratch, Sammy. I've had worse than that."

"So… you killed him?"

Dean looks away. "I'd do it again if I could."

A thick and pensive silence spreads between them after Dean finishes with neither of them knowing what to say, then after a few minutes, Sam awkwardly clears his throat. "…Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean looks up at his brother with a confused frown. "For what?"

"Not being there, I guess… I'm sorry you had to go through all that alone."

Sam has always known that Dean wasn't the ironclad, tough hunter he pretended to be on the outside. Everybody who knows his brother better also knows that he is actually a warmhearted and deeply affectionate guy with a huge heart. Witnessing something so terrible and then having to carry the weight of that horrible experience all by himself must have been poison for Dean's psyche. And even though Sam couldn't have known any of that was going to happen, he still feels incredibly guilty considering that he himself had been in sunny California at that time, going out with friends and dating Jessica.

Dean doesn't seem to share the sentiment.

He shakes his head, features determined in his denial.

"Dude,… I'm glad you weren't there. That's not something you forget, okay? I'm just glad you didn't have to see- glad you were out, living the good life-"

"While you were miserable and alone?!" Sam pushes. "Digging up corpses of little girls in some pedophile's basement?"

Dean sighs in defeat, knowing his little brother wouldn't drop the issue this easily. "Look, it happened a long time ago, okay? You were in college and that's okay, Sammy. You didn't know stuff like that was going to happen and even if you did, I wouldn't have wanted you to be there. Anyways,… the guy's kid-"

"Cole," Sam supplies, thankfully dropping the issue of Stanford.

"He saw me with the bloody weapon. The cops were coming- I had to bail."

Because getting caught by the NYPD with a bloody knife and a cellar full of corpses? Yeah…not such a good idea.

Dean snorts, licking his calloused lips. "Never would have thought this would come to bite me in the ass…"

Sam raises a provocative eyebrow, shooting his brother an 'are-you-out-of-your-freaking-mind' look.

"So you didn't think the teenager who saw you kill his father would remember your face?" Sam repeats incredulously. "Because things always run so smoothly with us."

Dean's face turns grim with annoyance. "Well what do you think I should have done, Sam? Kill the kid?"

"No, of course not," Sam recoils from the suggestion. "I don't know Dean. Keep an eye on him, maybe? I mean we know all about revenge when it comes to family."

"Oh and when –pray tell – should I have done that? When dad was missing? When he died and you were having visions? Or when we were trying to stop the freaking apocalypse?"

It's not like Dean has never thought about Cole again- there just never was enough time to actually check up on the kid. And even if he had done so, there would be no guarantee that Cole wouldn't have ended up on a crazy killing spree if Dean had somehow come around to explain the situation.

"Or maybe I should have driven up to him and exchanged our feels during the time Cas thought he was god and the devil was sitting on your shoulder?"

"Dean-"

"Or maybe when Bobby died or when you did the bloody trials and it almost cost your freaking life."

"Dean, stop it-"

"Or hey, I know- maybe I should have done it after I took on that freaking mark and you told me you couldn't care less about my sorry ass-"

"DEAN. I get your freaking point okay?! So we were kind of pre-occupied with other things…"

Dean snorts once more. "Kind of?" he chuckles darkly, rubbing a hand across his swollen lips.

Sam smiles weakly, eyes sparking with wistful sadness. "Our lives suck, man…"

Dean's own smile turns into a lazy grin. "What, you don't like getting abducted and tortured by vengeful nutjobs?"

Sam chuckles darkly in return. "One might think we would get used to that shit after almost 10 years on the road together…"

"10 years?!" Dean exclaims. "Try twenty... I've been shooting Wendigos when you were still in your diapers."

And under any other circumstances Sam would probably use the chance to point out how fucked up their lives are and how much of a terrible father their dad was in letting Dean delve into the hunting business at such a young age, but right now he just can't gather enough energy for any of that. So he just laughs it off instead, glad that his brother has once again managed to guide their conversation onto the safe track of sarcasm.

"Alright," he chuckles, wincing when the contractions cause his injured shoulder to spasm. "So are there any other crazy guys I should know about that fall into the I-have-beef-with-your-brother-so-I-am-gonna-kick-your-ass category? Because a simple heads up would be nice..."

Dean shakes his head. "None that I can think of right now. But just in case we happen to be in a similar situation again- next time, shut your mouth and don't try to make the guy with the knife angry, alright?"

"You did not really just say that to me, did you?" Sam huffs, propping an arm against his side and raising an accusatory look. "Dean, you are the epitome of rash stupidity when it comes to facing off bad guys."

Because Sam had been forced to hear his brother's snappy comebacks one too many times in the face of danger, had been forced to watch Dean take the punishment for his sassy glibness way too often to find this even remotely funny.

Upon sensing his little brother's annoyance, Dean raises his hands in playful surrender. "Just leave the brash defiance to me next time, that's all I'm saying. The badass attitude doesn't fit you…"

Dean winks at him to take the punch out of his lazy jibe, making sure his brother understands that he isn't being serious. Or at least not entirely. Because Dean will always have something against Sam putting himself purposefully in danger and even though that is part of their job description- the older brother will never be able to just stand by and watch while Sam is drawing unwarranted attention to himself by enraging their opponents even further. That's clearly Dean's job.

Satisfied with the way their talk has turned out, Dean finally clears his throat and gets up from Sam's bed once more, knees creaking in protest. "So, now that we've had this lovely bowel movement…" Dean grins at his own joke and Sam can't help but smile a little himself, thinking of the Supernatural Musical and the girls that portrayed their alter egos in the school play. "I'm going to get back to work and leave you to have your… by now cold breakfast."

"Dean, wait," Sam holds him back by wrapping his long fingers around the thick white bandages covering Dean's right wrist from where the handcuffs had torn into his skin. "There's one more thing I need to talk to you about…"

He takes a deep breath, meeting his brother's wary gaze over the short distance between their bodies. "I'm not trying to be judging here… honest. I just… I need to know. Back there when you went… full metal jacket on Cole… was it because of what he did? Or was it because you lost control due to the mark?"

Unmistakable panic flashes in Dean's green eyes and if Sam wasn't holding him by the arm, he would have probably fled the room right that second. But Sam needs to hear the truth, so they can know what they are dealing with. And even if his stupid heart threatens to claw its way out of his throat at the intense fear of losing Dean, Sam still needs to hear this, still needs to be sure.

The silence stretched between them for so long that Sam is halfway expecting Dean forgo an answer by remaining quiet, but after what seems like a small eternity, his older brother finally closes his eyes in defeat.

"I don't know, Sammy," he admits quietly, eyes dropping to the ground in shame. "I mean... when he grabbed you, I just reacted. I knew if I didn't get out of these cuffs, I'd loose you and that obviously wasn't gonna happen. But the mark... I've been feeling it for a while now, man. It's getting stronger... the urge to kill is getting stronger..."

Sam's breath stutters with the terrifying knowledge of what his heart knew all along.

"Okay…" he whispers in return, tightening his grip on Dean's wrist as if to silently communicate his undying support. Because no matter what else happens in the future, no matter what else they will have to deal with, Sam will be right by his brother's side, backing him up and fighting every step along the way until the bitter end. "Okay, Dean. Don't worry. We'll find a way to get rid of it. We'll fight it. Together."

He says the words with so much conviction, that Dean quivers from the force of it.

He doesn't look up to meet Sam's gaze when he nods shakily, jaw clenched and shoulders hung low in defeat. "Yeah… sure. Whatever you say."

Sam's heart clenches painfully at his brother's resignation, desperately trying to find a way to reach out towards his sibling.

"Dean…" he blinks rapidly, trying to clear his blurry vision. He feels the miniscule tug of Dean's hand in his fingers and squeezes them tighter around his brother's wrist, locking him firmly in place. "One more thing. Earlier… what you said- the… the thing about… how I couldn't care less about you?"

Dean's eyes widen visibly and this time he manages to rip himself from Sam's hold with another more forceful tug of his arm.

"I should go," the older brother murmurs hurriedly but Sam shoots forward in his bed, grabbing a fistful of Dean's shirt to keep him in place.

"Dean, please, hear me out."

Dean snorts and there is so much pain- so much hurt and vulnerability in that one little sound that Sam feels a pang of guilt just listening to it. He has caused that pain and he will not ignore that huge elephant in the room a second longer.

"I never said I didn't care about you." Sam carries on imploringly, wishing his brother would look him in the eye for what he was about to say. Because Sam doesn't have the same way with words his brother seems to be gifted with and he isn't sure that he can express all the emotions in his heart with mere words, when Dean isn't even able to meet his gaze. "I said….I said I'd let you die…"

"Sam please-" Dean breaks him off and Sam almost feels sick when he hears the tears in his brother's voice. Dean is begging him to stop talking. That's how much the mere memory of what Sam had told him still hurts him.

"You said you lied... when Metatron stabbed me... you said you didn't mean it-"

"Dean, I didn't. Not the way you understood it anyway... Back then in the bunker... I was so angry- so hurt by your actions that I just needed to hurt you back- to make you feel a tiny flicker of the emotional pain I endured. It was stupid. I never should have done that to you... I regretted it the second the words left my mouth."

"Okay."

"No, Dean. Look at me, please. I would not ever let you die, if there was the slightest chance to save you. You gotta know that. Man, I would die for you in a second. Always would have. Always will."

"Sam... I know that. " Dean sighs, once more attempting to break out of his younger brother's hold. But Sam just tightens his finger around the fabric of Dean's shirt until his knuckles turn white.

"But you didn't know it back then and I feel like such an ass..." he snorts in disgust over his own actions. "You know even in my darkest hours you always made me feel like... like I was loved... unconditionally. Always wanted. Always protected. And how do I thank you? By telling you that I'd let you die- like you mean nothing to me at all..."

"Sammy..." Dean chokes out in a breathless gasp.

Sam shakes his head, needing Dean to understand.

"And then you die. You just... just die in my arms and there's nothing... nothing I can do to stop it and not enough time to t-tell you that I didn't mean it... "

"Sam..."

"That we are not just partners. That you have never been anything less than my brother and the most important person in the world to me."

Dean is shaking beneath Sam's clingy hold, the vibrations of his quivering body noticeable. He doesn't protest any longer, doesn't try to turn away from Sam's words and it feels so good to finally get this from his chest. Sam takes a deep breath, feeling a tear slip from his brimming eyes. They need this to mend their broken relationship- they need to talk and say the things that have remained unspoken between them for so long.

So Sam takes his shaking fingers from Dean's shirt and raises a hand to gently lift Dean's beaten face until their gazes are locking.

"I love you, man. I know it might not always have seemed like it, but there was not a single moment in my life where that wasn't true. Not one second."

They don't ever say stuff like this out loud. They show each other in different ways, like having each other's back on a hunt or tending to each other's wounds after getting injured, or in the playful brotherly banter they exchange, or in making breakfast for the other, or putting a glass of aspirin on the other's nightstand after a night spent drinking. It's there in every gesture they exchange, every wordless glance they share but it's never ever spoken out loud.

Because grown men don't say shit like that. It's not appropriate, not common. But Sam's wish to conform to normality is long gone by now and he has finally come to realize that Dean and him will NEVER be like other people, so the 'normal' rules don't apply to them. And even if they did, Sam doesn't care.

"Sammy, you don't have to-" Dean begins, shaking his head and gnawing on his lower lip in an obvious sign of discomfort.

"But I want to." Sam interjects, before his brother can protest any further. "I want you to know all that. Without a doubt. I don't ever want to see you look at me in wonder again when I try to save your life. I don't want you to die again, thinking I would be okay after you're gone... Because I never was."

Tears are spilling freely from his eyes now, but Sam can't stop talking. Like a broken dam, the words keep rolling from his tongue, heart overflowing with repressed emotions.

"I was not okay, Dean. Not after you went to hell. Not after I 'hit a dog'. And certainly not after Metatron. And I will never be okay with you dying. So you better get that through your thick skull and do everything in your might to kick this stupid mark in the ass, got it?"

Dean presses his lips together and nods shakily. And because normal can screw itself and they are already in the middle of such a girly emo-talk, Sam makes a rash decision and viciously tugs at Dean's shirt, causing the older Winchester to stumble forward- taken completely off guard by the sudden movement.

"Wha-" Dean crashes awkwardly against Sam's chest and Sam doesn't miss a beat before wrapping his strong arms around his brother's shaking frame. "Sammy- what-" Dean tries to disentangle himself but Sam's arm tighten in protest, burying his head in against Dean's stomach from his sitting position on the mattress. "Shut up, Jerk." He utters in a watery laugh and his heart rate speeds up just a little when Dean finally catches on with the program and hugs him back tentatively, wrapping his one functioning arm around Sam's trembling shoulder. They stay like that for a little while, silently basking in each other's presence, until Dean gets twitchy in Sam's arms.

"Such a girl…" the older brother murmurs affectionately before they part with equally flushed cheeks and teary eyes.

"Are you done with the mother of all chick-flick-moments, bitch?"

Sam snorts a laugh. "Depends. Did I get my point across?"

Dean's face grows serious as he lets his gaze trail down to where the Mark of Cain is hidden beneath his plaid flannel shirt. He's quiet for a short moment before looking up again to meet Sam's hopeful gaze.

"We'll get through this, Sammy." He says, sniffing quietly and Sam doesn't miss that his brother's voice doesn't sound as hollow and defeated as before. "Together."

"Yeah. I know."

They share a silent promise without words. Whatever awaits them next, come heaven or hell or high water, they will fight it together, side by side. Just like they always have.

You and me against the world.

The END.

Wow. It's over guys, can you believe it? At this point, I'd like to thank you all again for being so supportive and giving me such an amazing feedback! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter as much as the rest of the story and didn't get disappointed. On a short note concerning Cole's father- I really didn't like the idea with the liver eating monster and since I couldn't make up any other cool creatures I went with this instead. I do not think, however that Sam and Dean would ever take lightly to killing any humans but in case of self-defense it could happen- so yeah. Just a little more angst and drama. Oh and I hope the chick-flick moment wasn't too over the top haha, but I couldn't help it. There's just so much these boys need to say to outright say to each other instead of always beating around the bush.

THANK YOU ALL soooooo much for the love :D And pleaaaase, one last time- drop me a few words about how you liked it! I will be forever grateful :D