Title: Enough

Words: 3889

Summary: The fight with Cole hit Dean harder than either of the Winchester brothers realised. That, and the turmoil that the Mark of Cain was leaving in its wake. But for now, Sam's there for Dean. And sometimes that's enough.

Tag: to 10x07, Girls Girls Girls

Note: I've been working on this story since the episode aired, but after writing a page never got around to finishing it, even with my Carrot's help (that's my friend's nickname btw, I don't have an actual carrot that I ask for help. Anyways...) until NOW; today in college I finished like 3 assignments so was like, well, what the hell, I'll finish this fic too. So, uh, it's finished. That's about it. Oh and it got really angsty and panicky in the middle and a bit sappy at the end oops. It's probably my feelings going through the writing tbh. Anyways, feel free to read and please review if you can :) -Rayne

The Winchesters walked back to the Impala, Sam behind Dean, eyeing his brother in worry and thinking too much to sort out.

Of course, he knew that Dean was in no way 'fine'; they had known this after the cure. He may not be a demon any more, but he still had the Mark and they still had no idea how to counteract that.

His actions in their last case showed that he may still be being affected by the Mark; the way he shot that shapeshifter more than enough times.

Sam had been worried then, too. And even before that, the way he manipulated Kate into taking them to Tasha so they could take her out. That wasn't Dean, or at least it wasn't how Dean used to be.

Dean understood about family, and he had taken in Kate's story, why her sister was a werewolf. But even though both Winchesters had known there was no cure, and unless Tasha was controlled she would have to be put down, Dean's coldness in the manipulation so they could do it instead of Kate was so not like Dean.

And now there was the fight between Dean and Cole.

Clearly Cole had found that Dean was no longer a demon, as he was last time they met. So he had gone for attack instead, judging by both men's injuries. They must have had a good beating on one another.

That was something to look out for on Dean, too. But looking out for Dean was getting harder.

Sam remembered his original terms for hunting again – that his brother must tell him if things go even a little wrong. Of course, things went wrong almost immediately. But still they continued.

Was that wrong? But Dean was right; they are Hunters, and they can't just leave that and take a break.

As for Cas… well, they haven't seen him since he helped with the cure. He was off with his 'female' tracking down angels or something.

Sam sighed as they neared the car. Dean got in the driver's seat without comment and Sam walked around and got in the passenger side without complaint.

This seemed to be how it was now.

After the last case, Sam had brought up the topic with Dean in the car on the way back, and of course his brother had completely excused what he did. Sam knew better than to try and talk again.

Still, he couldn't help watching Dean as the older Winchester revved the engine and pulled out, silently driving towards who knows where.

Sam sighed again and turned his head to stare out the window, thinking and thinking.

He must have dropped off because he was woken by a sharp twist. Sam snapped awake and straightened up, alert but not yet alarmed. He took in everything around them – it all seemed fine. A curving forest road at night.

Then he took a second look at Dean. On closer observation, Sam could see that his brother was shaking. Only slightly, but a shiver passed through him every few seconds.

This was definitely not Dean at his best. Alarm growing, Sam tried to be as nonchalant as possible as he glanced out his window then looked at his brother.

"Cold night?" he asked casually. Dean didn't reply. Now trying not to panic at how to deal with this sudden situation, Sam said sharply, "Dean."

At that, Dean jerked upright as if he had been falling asleep, and blinked and turned to Sam. "What?" he muttered, not really focusing.

Okay, now Sam was on full alert. There was something wrong with Dean.

Trying to figure out the best way to handle this situation, Sam asked calmly, "If you're tired, why don't we find a motel and go down for the night?"

Dean shrugged in reply, which wasn't greatly encouraging. "It's fine," he sighed, staring wearily out the front window.

Unsure of how to approach a closed-off brother, Sam returned his gaze out his window. He was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a while to realise – they were going off the road.

Immediately turning back to Dean, he forgot about not intervening and grabbed the wheel, turning it sharply so they screeched back onto the road they were meant to be on, and stopped.

Taking a shaky breath, Sam stared at his brother, trying to decide what to do.

Dean was blinking and frowning slightly, as if he couldn't remember what had happened. "Dude, what?"

"We almost ran off the road, Dean," Sam replied, gathering his patience. He sighed. "Look, clearly you're exhausted; let me take the wheel and get us safely to a motel."

It took a moment for Dean to process this information, and when he did, he didn't even argue, which worried Sam more.

He got out and walked around the to the driver's side so Dean could just slide over to shotgun.

Getting behind the wheel, Sam took another look at his brother, who was slumped in his seat, staring listlessly out the window, and still shivering.

Concern growing, Sam started the engine again and the car sped off down the road.

Sam walked into their motel room carrying the bags, slowly followed by his listless brother. He shut the door behind them and watched in worry as Dean walked over to the closest bed and dropped onto it.

Still watching out of the corner of his eye, Sam decided to leave his brother alone while he unpacked and settled in.

Which, for the Winchesters, didn't include more than taking a shower and finding some other clothes to wear.

So Sam headed to the bathroom with a fresh t-shirt and jeans, leaving the door open and reminding Dean to just call out if he needed anything.

Less than 10 minutes later, Sam came out the bathroom to be met with the same sight that he had last seen. Dean hadn't moved from his position of half-collapse on his bed, but he was still awake; Sam could tell.

Sighing, Sam walked over to his bed and put the dirty clothes back into his bag. Then he approached his older brother.

"Dean, I need to check you over, okay," Sam informed him quietly, and waited for a reaction.

At first, Dean didn't react, then he sighed wearily and slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position on the bed, still swaying slightly.

Getting more worried by the minute – this was definitely not Dean's attitude – Sam crouched down in front of his brother and began to triage him for obvious injuries.

The only clear wounds were on his face; he had a black eye and other cuts and bruises from Cole's punches.

As Sam helped Dean off with his jacket to, best as he could, check him over for any internal problems, he was struck by how unnatural cool and shaky Dean was.

He barely reacted through Sam's careful triage, which worried the younger brother even more.

But, as far as Sam could tell from years of experience and knowledge, there was little more wrong with his brother than a cracked rib and a few bruises. He couldn't currently understand Dean's coldness and shaking, either. Maybe it was exhaustion; maybe something worse. Maybe something that no one could do anything about.

So with a resigned sigh, he stood up and observed Dean sitting on the bed, staring into space. There wasn't much Sam could do about bruises, apart from offer his brother ice to numb the areas and reduce swelling.

So, trying not to get frustrated with worry about Dean's lack of reactions, Sam headed to the door to get ice, which might or might not help. Who knew what was what anymore.

Opening the door, Sam hesitated and glanced back at his brother. He couldn't help feeling that leaving Dean right now was a bad move, but it didn't seem like Sam could do anything by staying in the room. Better just get a move on and bed down for the night, and hope it was better in the morning.

It wouldn't be. It never was. But Sam couldn't think of a better plan right then. Seeing Dean calmly standing in front of Cole, who was holding a gun level at his face, was not something Sam would forget soon.

"Dean?" Sam called softly, trying not to startle his exhausted brother. Aside from stirring a little, Dean didn't react, and didn't look at Sam. "Dean, I'm going out for ice, okay? I'll be back in two minutes," Sam stated anyway, doubting his brother would even notice he wasn't in the room any more in the few minutes Sam intended to be away.

Again getting no reaction, Sam struggled against the instincts that were screaming at him not to leave Dean alone, and, making up his mind, left the room.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the night air and let his mind wonder a little as he stared up at the sky and the stars. They made him think of Castiel, and he wondered how long he would have believed in angels had they not revealed themselves to be real.

He wondered if what Dean had always said their mother had said to him was true – were the angels indeed watching over them all the time? It hadn't seemed like it. It hadn't and still didn't seem like there was anything but evil in the world to Sam.

Sighing, Sam shook his head a little to get rid of the deep thoughts, and walked past the rooms to find an ice machine. Most motels had them, although not for what the Winchesters usually used them for. It really did make a difference to injuries; having ice on them for the night. Both Sam and Dean knew that enough to not pass up the chance of using it if the motel had such facilities.

Unfortunately, Sam's searching didn't find any such machine in this motel. Mumbling half-hearted curses under his breath, Sam sighed again for what he knew wouldn't be the last time that night, and hurried back to their room. He had been gone for longer than he had promised his unresponsive brother. Even in Dean's current state Sam knew that he was capable of a lot more than anyone would guess, especially if he found out his little brother was missing.

Sam's arrival back to the room, however, wasn't met with ranting or fear. In fact, it wasn't met with anything. Because Dean wasn't there.

Trying to ignore the burning panic in his chest that threatened to swallow him, Sam called, "Dean? Dean!"

When his yells received no answer – though he wasn't really expecting them to, with that state that Dean still seemed to be in – Sam looked frantically around the room, then checked the Impala was still parked, and that there was no wayward brother in sight from the motel room door.

Both results came back fine, so Sam turned his attention back to the room itself, heart stuttering as he tried to keep panic about what could have happened to Dean, even – and maybe especially – in the short time that Sam was away.

It could be demons, angels or any other monster that hunted in the night. It could just be a human with a grudge against the brothers - it could even be Cole. What if he had followed them here?

Becoming almost wild with panic, Sam scanned the room again, although his previous searching had shown nothing. This time, however, he noticed that the bathroom door was ajar.

Taking a shaky breath, Sam moved towards the room, aware that it may not be Dean in there, and that he still had to be on guard. It was the only place he had not checked, though, so it would be foolish not to try.

Carefully pushing the door open more, it creaked, and Sam tensed, listening. He heard was sounded like heavy breathing from the other side and frowned, asking softly, "Dean?"

When no answer was forthcoming, Sam pushed open the door completely. And was met with a sight that, no matter how many times he saw, always scared him more than any monster could.

Dean was collapsed on the bathroom floor, shaking almost uncontrollably from coldness through his thin clothes. In a second, Sam was on his knees beside his brother, calling "Dean!" again although he knew why Dean wasn't replying.

"Shit," Sam muttered, abandoning his attempts to wake his brother up and instead very carefully skimming his hands over Dean, holding back panic as he did his best to find out what the hell was this wrong.

Dean's skin was clammy and cold, but when Sam brushed a hand through his hair, searching for head injuries, the warmness was startling. A fever was clear, but what from?

Sam stared despairing at the unconscious form of his brother, trying his best to sort through the day and figure out what had happened. There was that small fight with the witch and demons in the hallway, but Sam hadn't seen anything really bad happen to Dean. Then there was the whole 'attack dog' thing, but Sam had been the one to deal with that.

Which left the beating with Cole. That Sam hadn't seen, so in truth he didn't know how bad that had been. But his brief triage earlier had shown little more than a cracked rib and bruises…

That had to be it. Dean was in shock. Which explained the coldness, the unreactiveness, and the injuries could account for the fever. A body fighting off an attack while succumbing to shock.

Dragging himself to the bathroom and collapsing was the final attempt Dean had made to fight what was going on. And Sam had left him to do that, alone.

Swallowing back guilt, Sam turned his attention to waking his brother up. If Dean came around, then Sam could probably deal with it. If he didn't, then it really was an emergency.

"Dean, wake up, man. I need you to wake up," Sam begged, gently shaking Dean a little. "Come on, come on… don't make me drag your ass out of here," Sam added, trying a light attempt at humour.

When Dean still didn't show any signs of waking, Sam did his best not to panic while he called him brother as loudly as he dared, trying not to think of Dean never waking up again.

"You've gotta wake up, Dean," Sam whispered desperately, skimming his eyes over his brother again, checking for any reaction.

Taking a breath, Sam prepared to pick Dean up and take him to a hospital. That was the only option now, and Sam would be damned if he was losing his brother again, so close to just getting him back.

"Feel free to bitch at me whenever you want, Dean," Sam offered as he dragged Dean off the floor and supported him out to the car, gently putting him in the passenger seat.

Hurrying around the other side, Sam slid into behind the wheel and looked nervously at his still unconscious brother who was positioned as though sleeping, leaning on the door.

"It's okay, big brother, I'll take care of you," Sam murmured as he started the engine and pulled out. He broke speed limits as the Impala roared down the empty and dark roads, but he didn't care.

A couple of minutes on the road, and Sam could have sworn he heard Dean's voice. Slowing down a little, so he could glance at his brother without going off the road, Sam asked cautiously, "Dean? Hey, you with me?"

But despite stirring slightly, he was still unreactive, and Sam hesitated, feeling panic again. This was bad.

Even as Sam revved the engine and drove past the speed limits through the roads again, he heard his brother stir and start muttering. Not allowing himself to feel relief yet, Sam once again slowed the car slightly and leaned a little towards the passenger side, to catch what Dean was even saying.

"Sorry, S'mmy, all my fault… sh'd 'f talk to you… s'rry… I was a demon… tried to kill you… so s'rry."

And to add to Sam's terror at Dean's current state of mind, the older Winchester, semi-conscious and apologising for things he couldn't control, started crying, tears silently slipping down his face but his eyes barely open.

"Shit… shit, Dean… it's okay, I don't blame you, but you gotta work with me now, Dean, you gotta let me help you," Sam replied desperately, turning from the road to his brother and back again, trying to keep back tears of his own.

Because he knew that only he could break Dean this bad, and only Dean could break Sam like this.

Then, like a bright light from heaven, Sam saw the sign for the hospital. Muttering a prayer to whoever the hell was listening up there, he skidded into the car park and drew the car to a halt, immediately turning to his brother.

"It'll be okay now, Dean. I promise. My turn to take care of you," Sam murmured as a tear slipped past his guard and down his cheek at his brother's utter brokenness.

Dean was warm. Well, warmer than he had been before now, anyway. He didn't even know when 'now' was. His eyes felt too heavy to open, but that was okay. He liked the blackness, the warmness.

As far as he could tell, he was lying on a bed. It felt good. He couldn't remember when he had last felt this comfortable. Injuries and fights, one after another, kept him hurting and in hellish nightmares at night.

Fighting… the fight with Cole! The witches, the case – and – and Sam. It all came back to Dean suddenly, and now he wanted to open his eyes, but he wasn't sure if he could.

He tried to see if he even had a body instead, by twitching his fingers. That happened easily enough, although something pulled at his hand. And he heard a creak from beside him.

"Hey, Dean. You back with me now?" a gentle voice asked from somewhere in the real world.

In truth, Dean wasn't sure he was back at all. He felt strange, like floating, and he still couldn't place what was happening. But the best way to figure that out was to open his eyes.

So, with a slightly reluctant sigh, he blinked his eyes open and stared straight ahead – at a ceiling. That was all he could see. It was white and kind of boring. Probably like the rest of the room.

And then Dean twigged where he was – oh, for crying out loud… he was in hospital. Which was bad. Winchesters didn't do hospitals.

Alarmed by this sudden realisation, Dean turned his head to his left, remembering that voice. It had to be Sam's. Sam was the only one who really cared about him. And Dean wasn't even sure why that was any more.

Sam was there alright, sitting in a chair by Dean's bedside, but he looked tired and scared and worried. He managed a slight smile as Dean stared at him though.

"Hey," Sam greeted, and Dean could see relief in his expression.

Clearing his throat, Dean replied croakily, "hey, yourself." And then, without missing a beat, "what the hell is going on, Sammy?"

Sam flinched a little at that, but Dean didn't know why. He decided to find out later. Realising that he was lying down on a hospital bed, which wasn't his favourite position, Dean tried to push himself up.

Immediately Sam was there, a hand on his chest to restrict his movements. "Easy there, Dean. Hold on," Sam said soothingly, drawing back before Dean could ask what he was doing.

He pressed a button and sat back, observing his brother. A moment later, a nurse walked into the room and smiled brightly at her patient's blank look.

"Hello there, dear," she greeted him, moving towards his bed. She checked the monitors while Dean watched her in confusion, and then she pushed a button which raised the bed so he was almost sitting up.

She glanced at Sam with another smile. "He's holding up well, though I'd like him to stay in for at least today. The fluids fought the shock and his vitals are good. With rest, he should be fine."

Sam nodded, smiled, and thanked her. She left the room and Sam turned his attention back to his brother.

"Guess you want to be filled in now you're awake," he stated, and Dean nodded, frowning slightly. Sam quirked a smile at the usual just-awake confused Dean Winchester expression.

"I remember the fight with Cole. And then a motel… something about driving… that's about it," Dean offered apologetically.

Sam nodded. It was good enough.

"Well, that fight went worse than you thought, dude," Sam said, his voice lightly teasing as he explained the serious stuff, as the Winchesters always did. Dean nodded thoughtfully.

"Great," he sighed, "knew I shoulda brushed up before meeting the bastard again."

"So you did arrange that meeting, huh," Sam said vaguely, fiddling with the cover. Dean shook his head this time.

"No, dude. That date was all Cole's idea."

Accepting the reply as the admission it was, Sam nodded again and carried on. "Well, I couldn't tell what was wrong, so I went to get some ice. And you decided to get up close and personal with the bathroom floor. Scared the crap out of me when I came back. You need to tone down the Halloween tricks, Dean, I'm too young for a heart attack," Sam joked, casually covering up the real fear he had felt.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, princess, it's not my fault if you can't take a scare," he murmured in reply. Meaning he acknowledged how terrified Sam had been and was apologising.

Winchester language.

"So I had to drag your ass out of that awful room and take you here. Little overdramatic for a vacation, dude."

Dean shrugged. "A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do to get a nap, Sammy," he replied with a slight smile. The way they communicated was very special between them, and Dean understood every message in Sam's words.

How scared he was about Dean's condition; how touch and go it had been for a while. How guilty he felt about not realising it earlier.

The brothers were silent for a minute, this time no tension in the air like there had been as they left that alleyway the night before. It was a comfortable silence, of little secrets between them. Still some, as their lives went, but few compared to other years.

"Hey, uh… thank you, Sammy. I mean it," Dean said suddenly, not looking at his brother. "For, you know."

Sam nodded silently. Yes, he did know. "Dean," he said, and waited until his brother turned to look at him in the eyes. "You don't ever have to say that. Not to me."

Dean smiled and nodded, closing his eyes and relaxing. Their lives were hard, but they always had each other. Dean knew Sam was there for him when he needed it. And he was always there for Sam. And, sometimes, that was enough.