REGARDING DEAN (DELETED SCENES)

Part 1.

TO LIVE IT ALL AGAIN

"Sam...Sammy?" The hesitance in his brother's tone shatters Sam's heart. If there's anything his brother should never be unsure about, it should be that nickname. The only name of endearment Sam has ever accepted from anyone, and of course it was Dean's.

"Yes Dean?" He's careful to include Dean's name in case he's forgotten.

"I can't sleep..."

Sam swallows, looking up from the laptop across the darkened room to where Dean's green eyes shine at him through the dark.

"You listen to music sometimes, wanna try that?" He asks, reaching into his laptop bag to retrieve the earbuds he'd put there before they'd left home, the ones Dean had forgotten even normal. He smiles fondly as Dean takes them and stares at them quizzically while Sam is trying to find a playlist that matches his brother's tastes on his phone.

"Thanks for the white spaghetti, I guess?" Dean quips, the cords stringing from finger to finger in a tangled mess.

Sam laughs exasperatedly, "Give 'em here." He untangles the earbuds as Dean watches with wide eyes and rolls over on his side facing Sam.

Sam plugs the small piece into his phone, hits play, "Here ya go," he says to Dean, holding out the two small ear pieces, "Put these in your ears."

Dean looks doubtful and sends the white headphones a dirty look before slipping them into his ears. Sam chuckles at the awed look that breaks over his brother's face. He doubts Dean even remembers he has a music preference but lucky for Sam he knows his brother in and out. Dean is asleep within minutes of some of the calmer ballads of Led Zeppelin and Metallica.

Sam lets out a deep sigh. Hands brushing hair back from his face and scrubbing down over his eyes and cheeks exhaustedly. His body is running high with nerves and adrenaline but he's falling fast. He knows he can't sleep, knows Dean is all too of capable of slipping out of the room without Sam even stirring in his sleep. He's done it enough times before.

He flops down across the end of his bed on his stomach and turns on the tv, volume way down. Dean smacks his lips and frowns, Sam waits for him to wake up and for more questions and comments that cut through his heart like a knife. Things Dean should remember, things that make Dean who he is as well as Sam.

Times that shaped both Sam and Dean into who they are because they went through it together and now they were losing that. Or he was. Dean was losing it, but he didn't even realize it. And if Sam had entertained the thought of letting Dean enjoy this forgetfulness in some deep dark place before. He stopped right then. He owed it to Dean for his brother to remember everything they'd done and been through. To remember everything Sam had done for him good or bad. To remember everything Dean had done for Sam...Dean deserved to know how good he was.

And sure the bad was mixed with the good, but that was a life rule. Good times got you through the bad ones...even if the bad times are really really bad. Nightmares were chased away by memories soft and light barely there tip toeing across your conscious of better days and times...reminds you of the reason your fighting. The reason your going through all this bad right now.

And regardless how bad the bad, Dean deserved to have that. And it wasn't Sam's place to take that from him.

He huffs a breath and buries his face in the musty mattress. He hated this. He hated not being at home, in the bunker when they're this vulnerable, when Dean is this vulnerable. Eighty percent of Sam's peace of mind when it came to Dean was the fact that his brother could handle himself like a trained assassin...now his body is thrumming with constant alertness, a need to have Dean within his line of sight at all times.

And okay he might be creepy but Dean's asleep in front of him and his dark form on the bed interrupts Sam's view of the tv and he wouldn't have it any other way. Nothing is going to keep him awake like the concern for his brother. Sam sighs thinking back over Dean the past few hours.

It reminds him a lot of how Dean used to be. The kid who came and practically drug him out of Stanford. All confidence and snark, with a lovable, charming side that didn't apply to Sam...but he loved Dean anyways. Because there was something Dean always did that made Sam feel special, did that made him special. It was behavior only Sam got, and everyone around them saw it too. The way Dean sidled up to him when he was unsure, the way he looked to Sam when something appealed to his sense of humor, the way he angled his body in front of his little brother when he was insulted, threatened or if Dean simply had a gut feeling.

These were natural responses to Dean. He did them with or without memory. But there were other things Sam was already missing. Like the way Dean avoided dogs,(which Sam was highly appreciative of, hell hounds had permanently scarred both of them) or how Dean always turn on the air or rolled down Baby's windows because they both got severely claustrophobic in closed spaces. (Thank you to captivity in hell and now some creepy military facility.)

Or that Sam couldn't have waffles with whipped cream because he'd be sick, and then Dean would be stuck with him in the car. Or that Cas was out looking for Lucifer's baby mama and he would be all concerned about that...seriously his Dean would be stressing out big time over Cas out there on his own.

It's not that he wants Dean stressed, or scared, or claustrophobic it's just he wants Dean to be Dean. He loves all those frustrating little quirks that more often then not drive him absolutely crazy but he wouldn't have Dean without them. He loves him all the way around, every part, every scar and defect, every reminder of the wrong Sam's done, because Dean is also the reminder of the good he's done.

He sighs again, chin propped up on the back of his hand. His eyes jump to Dean when his brother stirs, is surprised to find his face twisted in pain. His heart jumps into his mouth and he's kneeling beside Dean in a second, a hand wrapped tight around one of his wrists. Unconscious insurance that his brother isn't going anywhere, physically or through death. His brother is not leaving him this way.

He watches the muscles in Dean's arms chord and can feel the tension rising in his brother's body and god, the fear in his face Sam is actually kind of frightened by it himself. It's not until he's watching silent tears make tracks down his brother's freckled face that he decides it's time to wake up.

He grabs onto Dean's biceps and gives him a gentle, but firm shake.

"Dean? Dean, need to wake up, buddy."

Dean grunts and tries to turn away from Sam even as the dream he's having is obviously intensifying, his face scrunching up in pain and defense. Sam shakes him again and is shocked when Dean jerks himself away from him, curls in on himself still asleep shaking, tears still trickling down his face.

"Sammy," he mumbles through tear-wet lips, "Please stop, Sammy..."

And ohhhkay, Sam's definitely had enough of this. He flips Dean onto his back with one hand on his shoulder and shakes him, hard.

"Dean, wake up," he tries to demand, but it come out more like a plea.

Dean comes back to the waking world with a sobbing breath. His hands reach desperately in front of him and his fingers immediately tangle in Sam's shirts. His eyes are wild and shiny in the dark with his tears, his breaths punching in and out of his chest and Sam realizes he's probably hyperventilating.

"Dean, hey Dean," he says softy. One hand going to grab one of Dean's in his shirt and the other sliding up to cradle the side of his distressed brother's face, his thumb sweeping under his eyes to catch the telltale wetness. "It's okay, I'm right here, it's okay...you're okay."

Dean is silent, his breaths just rasping roughly from his mouth, his wide eyes are locked on Sam's face, searching for something. Finally his posture collapses and he allows Sam to pull him close, tears starting again, big ugly scared ones that only compliment the trembles wracking through him. Sam feels frustrated and angry tears in his own eyes at the unfairness of the situation as he guides Dean's head to rest on his shoulder with a hand on the back of his head. How could this happen to Dean of all people?

Sam feels the exact moment his brother relaxes into his comfort, moves his head to hide his eyes against Sam's collar. The younger Winchester finally allows himself to breathe again. He sighs into Dean's hair, as he feels Dean's own damp breaths hit the thin material of his t-shirt.

"Dean." He says softly, and his brother goes still, minute hesitance of 'is that me?' And then Dean relaxes and Sam lets his hand fall from the back of his head down his spine. Leaves a gentle, reassuring rub on his arm.

"You okay? Just a bad dream, you know."

Dean shivers and Sam lets him go when he pushes away. Sam is still kneeling in front of him on the floor, Dean looks unsure and wraps his arms around himself looks down and away at the floor.

"S, Sammy?" He asks again. And there's no heart break for Sam this time, only joy that Dean still remembers him.

"Yeah, I'm right here." Sam urges softly, not letting go of the hand that's still hanging onto his shirt, Dean's still scared and unsure, still holding tight, anchored to the one thing he's sure of.

"It was kind of like a dream I guess..." Dean mumbles, his other hand rubbing sleep and tears from his eyes, he looks confused and frightened and Sam really just wants to hold him again. "You...weren't you and you were hitting me Sammy, again and again..." Sam can't breathe as Dean face contorts with sadness and anguish like his heart is breaking over and over again... "And you wouldn't stop but...I couldn't just leave you." He breaks off trying to explain and almost like the dream is already slipping from his mind.

He looks at Sam for the first time and Sam hurries to wipe away the tear that has escaped his eyes. Dean face softens, but the confused wrinkles in his forehead don't leave, he cocks his head to one side.

"Did I remember something, Sammy?" He asks quietly, eyes like green embers, glowing and beautiful, gazing down at Sam.

Sam swallows around the lump in his throat, chokes around it. "Yeah, yeah you did Dean." And how unfair is this? How could this happen to Dean of all people? Now he's subjected to living it all again?

Sam's never seen Dean as hostile to anyone as he was to Lucifer, never seen such unadulterated hate than that which Dean has for the devil. And while that's understandable since Lucifer had messed with both Cas and his brother Sam can't help but feel it has something to do with the brutal beating Dean and taken without lifting a finger from his little brother.

He can remember that day so clear, how Lucifer let him see it all, but he was powerless to do anything. Remembers how it felt the bones snapping and turning to ash under his fists, bloody flesh swelling up and hiding green eyes from view and god, all he wanted was to see those eyes, all he wanted was for the owner of those eyes to survive.

He remembers the white hot rage that had flooded him as he realized Lucifer was about to end his brother, the reason that he'd done all this. It was in that moment that Sam Winchester had, without any restraint, reached deep inside himself and used every single drop of darkness and strength in his soul to push Lucifer down and away.

No matter the cost Dean Winchester must live to fight another day.

Sam blinks, shaking himself from the memory. Dean's green eyes look to him now for guidance, confused and hurt, and Sam shivers knowing Dean had just relived that. The worst day of both their lives he feels pretty certain. And he'd had to live it again, live it again as a first time. The pain, the betrayal the confusion, the begging..."fight him Sam." The faith, the loyalty, "I'm not leaving you Sammy, you hear me?"

And he's sure, he's more sure than he's ever been. Dean Winchester must live to fight another day. But today it's Sam that has to fight. Has to fight for his brother. He urges Dean back down onto the pillow grabs the blanket from his bed and spreads it over his brother. Dean still refuses to release his hand, and Sam wouldn't have it any other way. He sits with his back against the bed, head laid back on the mattress touching Dean's side.

Dean turns towards him, head slipping down the pillow and to the mattress to where his eyes can see Sam's face. His arm slips off the edge and their hands stay joined in the air, both holding tighter than necessary...but it's unconscious, it's just right...way too much practice. Dean slips back off to sleep as soon as Sam looks back at him one last time. Their eyes connecting and even though Dean doesn't really know him anymore, their souls connect and they sigh with a peaceful sense of content and belonging.

Sam figures Dean had already forgotten the dream, already forgotten that fateful day once again. And it's all Sam can do to sit there and wait and pray that when Dean wakes up he can remember that the hand he holds so tight and precious belongs to his Sammy.

...tbc

Hope you enjoy! Plz review! ;);)

Basically over the next few days I'm just going to be sharing all the sweet little scenes I wish were canon, lol. See u guys soon.